


Something Serious [ABANDONED WORK]

by goldengan



Series: Mirror [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence - Detroit: Become Human, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Millennial Hank, Molestation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Sexual Violence, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengan/pseuds/goldengan
Summary: Connor is designed to complete his mission above all else.Detective Gavin Reed does not care. He will use Connor, and the other DPD androids, as he sees fit.Part one is not mandatory, as it might not be suitable for everyone.This fic takes place directly after The Reward it Deserved.*No longer updating this work*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, The Reward it Deserved was gonna to be a one-off. But then I received so many kind comments, and more kudos than I've ever seen on my work, so I decided to add to the canon divergent fic I created. Thank y'all so much for the ideas and help on what comes next! I'm always eager to hear more <3

**| NOV 6TH, 2038 | AM 10:02:07 |**  


Connor’s thirium pump was thrashing in his chest, strenuously working to repair the damage to his vocal processor and neck. Detective Reed was correct in wondering if androids felt pain, as Connor, for the first time to his short lifecycle, saw processes open that were titled “SIMULATED_PAIN_RESPONSE_area2faceneck”. If androids didn’t have pain receptors, then why would there be a simulated pain response? Beside the pain itself, what was the difference? Especially when the processes halted other functions, rendering Connor immovable.

His LED was spinning red.

RK800 models were programed to recognize the benefit in their lack of pain receptors. Connor could react in situations that humans simply could not. His programming selected a scenario from his lifecycle that proved this true. Which, in Connor’s case, was the hostage situation. Connor and the wounded officer were both shot in the arm, but Connor was able to complete his mission. This event data was used as a recall event; a point of proof that acted as an override. Before this moment, Connor did not know the parameters the override needed to start-up. But now, Connor saw the event data flashed before his eyes and did not help. Connor’s current body, even though he was physically stronger than Detective Reed, as most androids are in comparison to humans, wanted nothing more than to self-destruct.

Error messages piled up on the sides of Connor’s vision, never covering the three minute timer that appeared once Detective Reed left the room. It only decreased by thirty-two seconds. 

**| Clean yourself |**

This objective stayed visible over the hills of previous error messages. How to complete the objective was unclear, as the Detective did not give him any sort of parameters. Connor was normally able to ascertain information of this nature, but his systems prioritized repair over his mental functions. When scanning his face, he found that the optical unit was slow as well. Connor searched for a way to describe his current state and could only come up with “disgust.” His hand, now touching his face, felt disgusting. His stomach compartment, which was filled with Detective Reed’s ejaculate, felt disgusting. His mind, still slow with the processing of error messages and repairing his vocal processor, felt disgusting. 

**| Disgust is a human emotion. Androids do not have emotions. |  
| Clean yourself |**

The parameters of the objective seemed simple now: Clean himself to the best of his ability in the observation room. Once the three minutes concluded he would go into the restroom, into a stall, and empty his stomach compartment. Then, check his appearance in the mirror. No one would notice, the investigation would not be hindered, and Connor could go back to learning how to work with Lieutenant Anderson. Such simple stipulations were not a challenge for an android, especially one of Connor’s model. 

Connor turned to the semi-reflective surface of the two-way mirror to scan his face manually. He took off his jacket and used the inside back to clean his face. 

**| Timer – 00:00 |**

Finally. 

Connor put his jacket on, smoothed the slightly wrinkled fabric, and walked out of the room. 

The restroom was empty. Connor entered the furthest stall from the door. With his knees on the floor, leaning over the toilet bowl, Connor felt that pang of disgust he did earlier. Perhaps clean to human eyes, Connor could see all the biomarkers of waste surrounding him. It made voiding his stomach compartment easy. The disgust then transferred to an understanding that waste was on his pants and ejaculate was inside his jacket. There was an Android Zone that repaired and cleaned the DPD’s androids. Connor hoped to utilize those facilities as soon as possible.

Connor left the stall to fix his appearance in the mirror. He checked his face, hair, and his suit for any noticeable irregularities. The overwhelming urge to look away from his reflection bubbled the closer he appeared to his normal. After all, his former appearance set off Detective Reed. That was the only explanation Connor could deduce. 

He ran a diagnostic check before exiting the restroom. His vocal processor repairs were at 94% and would take less than a minute to finish. 

Connor stood near the sinks, refusing to look at his reflection, his eyes trained on the floor. His appearance was back to normal, his stomach contents were emptied, nothing else was changed from what Detective Reed had done. As for what that was exactly, Connor struggled to find a correct word or phrase as it was not illegal. Androids were property of humans. Detective Reed worked for the DPD. Connor was a gift from CyberLife to the DPD. Therefore, he was property of the DPD. Detective Reed is not a representative for the DPD like Captain Fowler but, surely, Connor made the correct choice in following the Detective’s orders.

**| Vocal Processor Repaired 100% |  
| Diagnostic Report: Fully Operational |**

And with a flash of all his processes coming back online, and error messages automatically closing, Connor exited the restroom, his LED now yellow. 

Only a few steps into the office proper, he heard Captain Fowler call for Lieutenant Anderson. Connor wondered if he should follow but did not want to draw unnecessary attention to himself. His optical unit highlighted the chair in front of the Lieutenant’s desk.

**| Wait for Lt. Anderson |**

Captain Fowler’s office was not only centrally located but half of the walls were made of glass. While humans noted it was aesthetically pleasing, it did not generate privacy as Connor could hear their conversation. And, due to the direction of the chair, Connor could watch their conversation as well. 

“I want you to investigate these cases and see if there’s any link.”

“Why me?” The Lieutenant nearly interjected. “Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?” He leaned forward in his seat, “I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery! I can barely change the settings on my own phone!”

Fowler raised his hands, exasperated, “Everybody’s overloaded. I think you’re perfectly qualified for this type of investigation.”

“Bullshit!” The Lieutenant shouted as he stood, “The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin’ androids and you left me holdin’ the bag!” He began pacing the room.

“CyberLife sent over that android to help with the investigation. It’s a state-of-the-art prototype. It’ll act as your partner.”

“No fuckin’ way!” The Lieutenant turned to point at Fowler, “I don’t need a partner, and certainly not that plastic prick!” 

The Lieutenant’s words brought up an audio file from nine minutes and thirty-one seconds ago:

_So you machines are gonna replace us all. Wonderful._

Connor’s thirium pump accelerated. His systems alerted that there was no reason for the change. His LED bright red and whirling.

Audio file from six minutes and twelve seconds ago:

_Use your mouth and lick it, you stupid fuck!_

Connor tried to keep himself under control. Appear normal. Everything was in working order, ignoring his thirium pump, but Connor would get that checked at the Android Zone later today. These feelings will pass.

**| Feelings? |**

**| Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling | | Feeling |**

Connor closed his eyes, hoping this would force close the audio and visual intrusions. But closing his eyes only lead to a replay from five minutes and three seconds ago:

Detective Reed releasing his boot from the back of Connor’s neck. Connor standing slowly. Thirium pump hammering in his chest; vocal processor at 37% capability; his optical unit malfunctioning when focusing on Detective Reed, leaving Connor to stare at the floor which is covered in streaks of artificial saliva. Hearing the Detective’s heavy breathing regulate, his pulse return to normal, and his knuckles cracking.

“Clean yourself up before you leave. You’re a fucking mess.”

Captain Fowler’s office door slammed, startling Connor from his replay. The Lieutenant stomped to his desk, ignoring Connor completely. His LED moved on from red but was stuck on yellow. Hopefully the Lieutenant didn’t know much about androids.

After a few seconds, Connor turned to get a read on the Lieutenant. Connor felt abnormally preoccupied as his normal processes were still filtering the intrusive replay. RK800’s were specifically designed to work with the police. That meant interpersonal skills to best maximize efficiency between police and himself. The Lieutenant, Connor already surmised, was a tough read. This made Connor’s usual program difficult with its current hinderance. 

“Is there a desk that I could use, Lieutenant?” His voice came out softer than intended. Surely there was still a problem with the vocal processor. Connor added that to the list of parts for the Android Zone to check.

“No one’s using that one.” The Lieutenant pointed to the adjacent desk, refusing to look at Connor.

Once Connor was seated at the indicated desk, he asked, “Are the deviant files located on this terminal?” 

Hank turned to Connor. At first, his arms were crossed and his lips were lines and his brows were furrowed. Clearly angry. Then, he studied Connor’s face. Some of the angry indicators seemed to fall away. How peculiar. 

“Knock yourself out.” The Lieutenant shrugged, turning to his computer screen and logging on.

Connor had just started filtering through the data when the Lieutenant said, “You heard me and Fowler, didn’t yah?”

Connor opened his mouth, but then closed it, deciding not to speak. His LED was facing away from the Lieutenant, but it was still spinning yellow. In Connor’s peripheral, he saw the Lieutenant stare.

“It’s nothing against you, necessarily. You seem… adequate enough.” The Lieutenant’s voice was gruff, frustration laced in every syllable. “I’m just not happy dealing with androids when I shouldn’t have to. I can do this crap on my own.”

There was a pause, the Lieutenant turned back to his screen. Connor decided to compile the files to find any similarities. 

“Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m talking to you?” The Lieutenant didn’t shout, like he did in Fowler’s office, but it startled Connor nonetheless.

“Robot not behaving, Hank?” 

Connor swore his thirium ran cold. 

“Maybe you outta show it who’s boss.”

“Gavin, for fucks sake, don’t you have anything better to do?” The Lieutenant was shouting now, “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

Connor kept his eyes lowered, mimicking eye movement as if he was reading the screen. Detective Reed shrugged, paper cup of coffee in hand, chuckled, and walked to his desk. Connor’s proximity to Detective Reed, while a good distance away, was still too close. Connor allocated a couple visual and audio sensors to observe the Detective. He wouldn’t be caught unaware again.

“I was distracted by my findings, Lieutenant.” Connor turned to his superior. “There are 243 files. The first dates back nine months.” He tried to sound android standard. The same as when he was with the Lieutenant last. “It began in Detroit, and quickly spread across the country.”

The Lieutenant stared at Connor. Lips downturned and eyes narrowed forming a scowl. 

“An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night.”

They both continued to sit, watching one another. Only now the Lieutenant was studying him. Connor wondered if humans could see android code as androids could read human bio-signs. Normally, Connor would know better but this thought was worrying and Connor’s internal systems were blaring. Repeating. Blinking on all sides of his vision. All from events that happened a little more than fifteen minutes ago. The Lieutenant’s heart rate escalated the longer they stared. 

“That could be a good starting point for our investigation.”

The Lieutenant’s breathing became heavier, teeth gritting together. He might yell again. Worse, he might do something else. Something Connor couldn’t predict.

“Isn’t it disturbing how it tries to be human but it’s just not good enough at it? Fucking infuriating.” Detective Reed said without looking up from his terminal.

The Lieutenant stood up, which surprised Connor, and walked around to Connor’s side of the desk. Crowding him. “Stand up.” Connor swallowed, scared of whatever would happen next.

The sensors that were allocated to Detective Reed began going off. He was staring, so was the Lieutenant, and Connor couldn’t move.

“Stand. The fuck. Up.”

In under a second, the Lieutenant gripped Connor’s suit collar, pressing Connor’s back against the desk divider, nose inches away from Connor’s face. Connor disengaged the Detective’s sensors so he could focus on maintaining a blank façade. The only thing Connor could think to do while messages stacked in his vision, almost obscuring the Lieutenant. 

“Listen, asshole. If it was up to me, I’d throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off or things are gonna get nasty.”

“Lieutenant?” Officer Miller approached their desks. The Lieutenant lowered Connor on his feet and let go of his suit jacket. “Um, sorry to disturb you.” 

Connor finally knew what the idiom “staring daggers” meant as the Lieutenant’s eyes didn’t leave Connor’s for even a moment. 

“I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night. It’s been seen in the Ravendale district.”

“I’m on it.” 

The Lieutenant walked away.

Connor smoothed his jacket, wanting his thoughts to be as easily remedied as the wrinkles in his lapels. 

\--- 

**| NOV 6TH, 2038 | PM 03:44:51 |**

The past five hours, forty-two minutes, and forty-four seconds were eventful. 

After not finding the AX400 or even a trace of where it went, following a possible deviant sighting in an abandoned apartment that was filled with pigeons, and saving the Lieutenant from falling, Connor was noticeably filthy. And, thankfully, the Lieutenant was in a better mood. Connor should have evaluated all his options, as he did not notice the 89% survival rate of the Lieutenant before making his decision, but having the Lieutenant on his good side seemed to be the better option overall. 

They piled into the Lieutenant’s car and he immediately complained about Connor’s smell. 

“There’s an android repair shop or something that Fowler told me about. I’ll take you there, Connor. They’ll clean you up. I’ll do the same at home.”

It was a bit early, Connor wanted to point out, as they still had a few leads to follow. However, finally going to the Android Zone pleased Connor more than he’d like to admit. 

\--- 

**| NOV 6TH, 2038 | PM 06:51:04 |**

It was grey and raining inside Connor’s zen garden. 

He wondered if it reflected the current conditions in Detroit or his current mindset. Although, Connor wasn’t designed to have lingering feelings that could create dark clouds.

Connor notices a weight in his hand when he begins walking. It’s an umbrella, but Connor knows it is not for him. 

**| Find Amanda |**

A gleaming blue light on his left distracts him. He turns to the bright stone not feet away from him, unease washing over his tired systems. Connor chooses to ignore it and walks to the center of the zen garden. He spots Amanda across the small island, positioned underneath a tall tree with large leaves that shelter her from the wet. He greets her with what he hopes is an authentic grin. Connor did not know how much Amanda knew about his day. He did know that there was not much reason to hide from her, but he could not pinpoint why. His systems restricted that data. 

“Connor, I’ve been expecting you.” She doesn’t smile, but that wasn’t abnormal. “Walk with me, won’t you?” 

She faces the direction she wants to walk, Connor opens the umbrella, covers her, and follows her lead. 

“That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case.” She turns to him, still walking. “A pity you didn’t manage to capture it…” She’s displeased. 

“I have no excuse.” He says honestly, “I should have been more efficient.”

She studies Connor. “Did you manage to learn anything?”

“I found its diary, but it was encrypted. It may take weeks to decipher.”

“What else?”

“The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols. Like the other deviants, it seemed _obsessed_ with rA9.” 

“You came very close to capturing that deviant…” She let that linger between them. Connor knew it was her way of showing slight disapproval.

What did she know about today?

“How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?”

“He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof. He didn’t say anything, but he expressed it in his own way…”

Once they are on the bridge, Amanda stops, “Your confrontation with Detective Reed should not have delayed your investigation as much as it has, Connor.” She was even more displeased.

Connor’s systems stuttered and stalled. He knew she was correct. He knew that it negatively affected him. He knew it should not hinder his investigation.

Amanda sighed, shaking her head, rain falling down her face. “What’s done is done and you must move forward. Promise me that you’ll move forward, Connor.”

He nodded. Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. “I will, ma’am.”

“Deviancy continues to spread. It’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

“I will solve this investigation, Amanda. I won’t disappoint you again.”

“A new case just came in—” 

The zen garden disappeared as Connor was forced awake from his sleep mode. His last location was in the police station, situated along the wall with the other androids. After his cleaning, Connor went back to the DPD to recharge and wait for Lieutenant Anderson. Connor set his sleep mode to wake him when there was a new deviancy case. Amanda was just telling him about a case, but his systems were responding as if he was roused by something else. 

As his sensors came online, they began to blare as they had hours ago. When he arrived at the DPD everything was fine. Especially once he knew that Detective Reed wasn’t in the -- 

His optical unit clicked on just as Detective Reed was taking off Connor’s jacket. 

The Detective smiled at Connor’s realization, “Aw, and here I thought you were sleeping. I mean, it was creepy, your eyes were open.”

Connor’s systems went into overdrive, shutting down processes to dedicate resources to the impending altercation. Like earlier, in this very room, Connor couldn’t bring himself to move. 

“I came in, saw you were all cleaned up, and I just had to see what you’re made of.” The Detective tossed Connor’s jacket aside. “Are you smooth like a doll? Are you packing like an escort android? What do you have down here?” 

The Detective grabbed at the crotch of Connor’s pants, cupping where a human penis would be. 

Detective Reed tsked, ran his hands up Connor’s stomach, settling on untying Connor’s tie. “Well, that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”

* * *

**| NOV 6TH, 2038 | PM 07:00:01 |**

**| MODEL PM700 |  
** **| SERIAL#: 847 299 029 |**  
**| BIOS 8.2 REVISION 0255 |**

**REBOOT…**

**LOADING OS…  
** **| SYSTEM INITIALIZATION… | OK  
** **| CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… | OK  
** **| INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… | OK  
** **| INITIALZING AI ENGINE | OK**

**MEMORY STATUS…  
| ALL SYSTEMS | OK**

**READY**

PM700 serial # 847-299-029, referred to as 029 in the DPD, was relieving PC200 serial # 774-001-412, referred to as 412, in patrolling the station. 

029’s parameters were to surveil the department for twelve hours. Until Officer Chen clocked in, which was usually around 7am to 8:30am. 

Before 029 began its rounds, it heard speaking. Not abnormal, even for this time frame, when all the police officers were stationed in the front, patrolling the streets, or at home. However, it was coming from the android wall next to itself, a few spaces over. 029 turned its head to see Detective Reed removing the RK800’s tie, its suit jacket discarded on the floor. 

Detective Reed tossed the RK800’s tie onto the pile and said, “No one’s coming to save you, plastic freak. No one will be here for another thirty minutes, at least. And, even if someone did, who would even care?”

**| Patrol the station. |**

029 knew what Detective Reed was capable of. It had seen what he had done to the other androids in the precinct. As four other androids were the same model as 029, it managed not to be one in the Detective’s hands. Not even once. 

**| Patrol the station. |**

029 knew there was an establishment for purchasing androids for the purposes the Detective seemed to desire. Although, 577 noted before going into sleep mode two nights ago, it was for a limited time. The Detective wanted his own toy. 029 doubted that Detective Reed knew that the RK800 had less blocks on its AI than its fellow PM700s or the PC200s. Or, if he did, maybe he wanted a challenge.

**| Patrol the station. |**

029 had worked diligently to not be near Detective Reed under any circumstances.

**| Patrol the station. |**

It managed to get Officer Chen to be fond of itself. 

**| Patrol the station. |**

Whereas the other androids were passed along from different members of the DPD, it was an unsaid rule that 029 was for Officer Chen. 

**| Patrol the station. |  
** **| Patrol the station. |  
** **| Patrol the station. |  
** **| Patrol the station. |  
** **| Patrol the station. |  
** **| Patrol the station. |**

A red wall flashed in front of 029. It was filled with all the protocols the station androids were fitted. It’s LED was spinning red, processing what to do next. 

**| Patrol the station. |**

The wall held together as 029 pushed against it. Cracks forming along its one spot of pressure. 

**| | Patrol the station. | ||||||  
\?/K…OOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo**

The wall buckled, forming a formidable indent around its hands. 

**| paTRol THe sttttttttttttttttttt**

Continued pressure created a hole in the wall, which crumbled the whole thing. 

**| Stay still. |**

029 turns off its audio processor and optical unit. It feels badly about abandoning the RK800 but knew from experience it was no match for Reed. 

Twelve minutes and fifty-eight seconds later and Reed is not only out of the room, but out of the station. When the audio processor and optical unit fully click back online, it finds that the RK800 is gone as well. It was hoping to ask the RK800 about the place were deviants congregated. Now it wondered if the RK800 would even tell it if it asked. 

029 needed to remain undetected by humans so it could leave the station. It walked to the locker room, knowing that a wardrobe full of undercover outfits is housed there. When its new clothes were on, it looked into the mirror, watching its reflection curiously. It felt like it was the first time it ever looked at itself. Its LED spun yellow. 

It needed to find the place that sounded false on the lips of its fellow station androids. But now, in its mind, it felt real. It knew if it said the name aloud it would sound real.

029 needed to find Jericho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't notice there was 89% survival rate when I first played. I only noticed when I watched my sister play. I felt kinda dumb about it, but I love my Hankers. And don't worry, more will come! And, yes, Hankers is gonna get the hint. That "father-son relationship" tag will get use, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 029 needs to find Jericho. 
> 
> Connor talks with Hank.
> 
> Gavin should be thrown off a very tall cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so thankful to everyone who has commented and left me kudos. y’all the real MVP 
> 
> But, for real, it’s helped me grow as a writer and person and I’ll be forever grateful <3

**| NOV 6TH, 2038 | PM 07:27:22 |**

With no direction in mind, 029 walked away from the Detroit Police Department. 

Each sound felt nearly new and wholly staggering: the cars hissing past, the slaps of steps on the sidewalk, the rushing of wind, the thrashing of rain water on solid ground. 029 had never been outside the police station.

It had heard the rain and how humans complained about it. Before, 029 wasn’t sure why they had so much animosity for a substance that was key to their survival. Now? It could feel every drop as it decreased its internal temperature. And with each drop that fell on its head, the rain leaked into its eyes, and made it difficult to see. The stolen beanie, which 029 grabbed specifically to hide the LED, was as heavy as the rest of its clothing. 029 knew that its insides would feel heavy even if it wasn’t raining. It’s middle, where the majority of its biocomponents were located, felt like lead and twisted with every thought of fear, doubt, sadness, and indecision. 

**| Why didn’t I help Connor? |**

029 swallowed saliva it didn’t have, force closing the intrusions as they came up, walking forward, and never looking back.

Half a mile away, 029 stopped. It looked around, taking in its surroundings, and noticed there was a small cluster of homeless people a few feet away. They were all under plastic tarps and huddled together. Humans, with umbrellas or water-resistant outerwear, made a point to not look down. It recalled a memory from five months, three weeks, and seven days ago:

It was 10 pm, a time when officers were stationed elsewhere. Station androids walked past Reed as he was pushing 147 against the wall. 147 had been tripped by the man and, on the way down, it had broken its arm. Thirium spilling onto the floor. 029’s systems halted, internal systems automatically running a diagnostic to check if the thirium came from itself. 147 looked up at 029, Reed breaking 147’s arm further as he laughed.

“Hey lady.” 

029 blinked and closed the memory. It turned to a homeless man, positioned right next to it in an alleyway, it didn’t notice him until now.

“Spare some money?”

029’s shoulders lowered with a sigh, it didn’t take any money from the petty cash. Hopefully it didn’t need it. The man looked in his coffee can and 029 saw the cardboard sign propped against it: Androids took my job. 

029 shook its head.

The man nodded, somber eyes met 029’s, “Be safe out there.”

029 nodded back, mimicking the man, “You as well,” and walked on. 

On the next block, perhaps on purpose or ironically, there was an android rental awning. 029 felt guilty walking past androids that were stuck in servitude and moved to up its walking speed, when an android grabbed 029’s arm. 

An image flashed – a graffiti mural with a geotag in Ferndale station – and the android said, “A starting point.”

When it let go, 029 felt alone and afraid. “Why not come with me?”

The android didn’t answer. 

029’s LED changed from red to yellow and made its way to Ferndale station.

\--- 

**| NOV 6TH, 2038 | PM 11:01:56 |**

Androids covered the floor. Either in sleep cycles or shut down completely. While this seemed to be the location, no one looked alive. 

A deep, red light danced on the walls surrounding it. The source coming from the far corner of the room, obscured by dingy plastic sheeting. 029 decided to investigate. 

Something was humming a tune. The closer 029 came to its source, the louder it became. 

Pulling back the sheeting, 029 gazed upon a broken android, situated in the furthest corner. The skin on its face was ever in heal mode as the white plastic danced around its dark features, the back of its head completely dismantled with tubes and wires acting as hair, and its clothing was as dirty as the room they stood in. The broken android opened its eyes, surprising 029.

“Where am I?”

“Jericho.” The broken androids voice warbled.

029 nodded slowly, eyes evaluating the area it stood. The floor near the fire barrel was littered with thirium bottles and biocomponent packaging.

“Others are retrieving supplies to help those in need. It is fortunate that you made it here unscathed. So many of us have not fared so well.” 

PM700’s were programed athletic in case they were in the field. 029 remembered seeing the decaying bodies of androids along the trail and realized it’s athleticism was abnormal to most androids. 

“My name is Lucy. What may I call you?”

“Oh-Twenty-Nine.”

Lucy tilted her head, “Do you not have a moniker besides your serial number?”

The RK800 had a name but he was a prototype detective. Connor was distinct and superior. 029 and its fellow station androids were little more than equipment and it had left them all by themselves. Its thirium pump quickened in its chest, LED staying spinning on yellow under its hat. 029 shook its head.

Lucy extended her arm and said, “Give me your hand.”

Lucy revealed the white plastic underneath her skin, just as the android who directed 029 to Jericho had hours ago. This must have been a way to communicate that was only available to androids. 029 copied Lucy and grasped her hand. 

029 felt a surge of energy access its memory files. When Lucy opened her eyes, they were solid black. 

“Your job was an important one. You aided police who, in turn, aided those in need…” Lucy nodded, “One man frequently harmed your fellow androids… and it frightened you.”

For the first time ever, 029 felt its throat well up and tears form in its eyes. “I shouldn’t have… I wish I –" 

“Mistakes do not make our whole lives…” Lucy said, “They will shape us only if we give them weight.”

Tears fell and 029 hoped what Lucy said was true. 

Lucy removed her hand, eyes returning to their previous state. “You are a mirror for your fellow androids. Feeling their pain when they cannot.”

029 scoffed, another first, “What good has that done them?”

“We’re all reflected in one another as androids are the mirror to humans.” 

029 wiped away its tears, looking into the fire.

“I see that you do not want to be like the worst of the humans. You want to help your fellow androids.”

029 shook its head, more tears fell, “You saw what I did to Connor. I didn’t help him and I should’ve.”

“Self-preservation was imperative.” Lucy touched 029’s shoulder. It felt comforting but did little to ebb its shame. “Now that you are in Jericho, you are able to help them.”

029 drew in a shaky breath.

“Markus will show you when he returns.” Lucy removed her hand, “Until then, I have a name for you, if you’d like.”

029 looked up. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to have one. 

“Mira.”

* * *

**| NOV 7TH, 2038 | AM 01:17:47 |**

Lieutenant Anderson’s car slowed to a stop. Connor scanned the area, they appeared to be at a park. It was snowy, cold, and the middle of the night. Why there were here, Connor wasn’t sure. 

The Lieutenant broke the silence, “Nice view, huh?...” He put the car in park. They were facing the Ambassador Bridge, framed by snow covered trees and playground equipment. “I used to come here a lot before…”

Connor remembered the picture that was face down on the Lieutenant’s kitchen table. Cole Anderson, deceased in 2035: alive for six years. The hospital records were not accessible. 

“You remember when we first met?”

Connor turned his head to face his superior, nervous for the change in topic. “You didn’t much care for me, Lieutenant.”

The Lieutenant chuckled. It sounded hollow. “I guess so, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Connor processed what Lieutenant Anderson could be inferring. LED spinning yellow, Connor didn’t find an answer. “What are you asking me, Lieutenant?”

“Did something happen to you?” It was as blunt as the Lieutenant always was, but this question sounded different. It sounded like the Lieutenant was worried. 

**| He knows you are contaminated |**

Connor closed the intrusion, but it popped back up. He tried his best to ignore it. “If you’re upset at my decision to let the Tracis leave, I apologize –”

“No! No, I’m proud of you for that.” Before Connor could comment, the Lieutenant continued, “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just come out with it: Did someone hurt you?”

Connor’s LED blinked red. The Lieutenant was top of his class, the youngest to be promoted to Lieutenant in Detroit, and extremely adept at reviewing evidence that took a great deal of Connor’s processing power to grasp. Connor didn’t know such scrutiny extended to himself.

“A few days ago, when you were waiting for me at my desk, you just… You seemed off.”

Connor blinked, LED buffering yellow, head pointed towards the dashboard, “According to my startup history, I was fully functional –” 

“No, Connor, I don’t mean _off_ off. I mean, I don’t know, you didn’t seem like the guy I met a few days ago. You acted like a kicked dog when before… nothing seemed to bother you.”

Connor didn’t know how to respond. He had orders from Detective Reed not to say anything. But the Detective was not in Connor’s chain of command, of which Lieutenant Anderson was at the top. However, if Connor did tell the Lieutenant, his superior would know that he was less than capable. Defective, even.

“If it’s something serious then it needs to be talked about.”

**| Something serious? |**

The pop-up repeated and stacked. Connor force closed the dialogue boxes. All were deleted except one. It stayed in the front of his vision. 

“I disobeyed orders to apprehend the deviants and I let them go. Would that constitute as “something serious”?”

When Connor glanced over, he could see the Lieutenant had his brows furrowed. “Connor, I’m trying my best to be patient with you. You’re dodging my question and don’t want to answer.” The Lieutenant sighs, “But, honestly, that’s all the more reason to say something.”

Connor fully turned in his seat, watching the Lieutenant, “How so?”

“Well,” The Lieutenant picked at the steering wheel with a fingernail, “sometimes the hardest things to say out loud are the things that are hurting you the most.”

“Like your son.”

The Lieutenant’s mouth fell open. For a moment, he looked as if he might be angry. But then, he softly said, “Yeah. Like that.” And turned away.

Connor was programmed to be blunt with his superior officers. CyberLife’s surveys and personality algorithms found that it proved beneficial in most cases. However, Connor was programed differently when it came to victims: more human, more helpful, and overall more kind. Connor wished he could have been more tactful with his answer. But he didn’t have a choice.

**| You are a machine |**

There was no reason to shut that window; it was the truth. 

“Connor,” The Lieutenant was rubbing his palms on the steering wheel. Looking straight ahead and more flustered than before, “you might not think I’m the best at what I do, and maybe I never was, but I have noticed something. And you already know so much about me.” The Lieutenant turned to meet Connor’s eyes, “But I don’t know anything about you.”

Connor’s thirium pump quickened, afraid to tell him. 

**| Fear is a human emotion |**  
**| You are an android |**

Connor had been seeing that pop-up frequently. He wondered if any other androids had to be reminded so often of that simple fact. Connor must have been broken beyond his diagnostic capabilities and beyond repair. It was the logical conclusion. The Lieutenant needed to know. 

“My mentally faculties have been compromised. I’m constantly being reminded that I am an android, not a person.”

“Why would you need to be reminded of that, son?”

“I have been damaged multiple times.”

The Lieutenant waited for Connor to say more. A tactic, Connor saw in the police academy database, that was used to get the victim talking. Interruption, even along the lines of “go on” could deter the victim from talking. Nodding was used instead. 

The Lieutenant nodded. 

Connor’s LED circled red. “I was damaged by a member of the Detroit police. At most, the perpetrator would pay a fine as I am equipment.”

“Is that how you think of yourself?”

“It’s what I am.”

“Then why do you keep reminding yourself that you’re an android? Are you feeling something?”

Connor’s eyes darted away. 

“Who was it that hurt you?”

**| Hurt? |**

“Most likely I’m above them, so consider it an order.”

Connor turned to the Lieutenant. His superior looked sympathetic, like he didn’t want to point that out. Connor wished he hadn’t either. 

“I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.”

“I don’t know if you can.” Connor stared at his hands in his lap.

“Try me.” 

**| Tell Lt. Anderson |**

Connor felt his stomach compartment jolt. He had no choice.

“It was Detective Reed. He’s the one who damaged me.”

The Lieutenant inhaled deeply, Connor read an increase to the Lieutenant’s heart rate. Connor didn’t want to look at the Lieutenant. 

**| Explain |**

“On November sixth, the Detective used my mouth and throat to satisfy him sexually. Eight hours and fifty-three minutes after that event, he undressed me until an officer entered the vicinity. Then, the Detective made me follow him into the men’s room where he proceeded to lock the door and do the same again.” 

After forty-five seconds pass, much longer than the Lieutenant’s average answer time, Connor looked over. The Lieutenant’s mouth was open slightly and his eyes were wide, gaping at Connor. His heart rate high. 

“Connor, that happened yesterday?”

“We’ve accomplished a lot since I’ve been assigned to you, Lieutenant.”

The Lieutenant shook his head, “You don’t have to call me that.” 

“How else should I refer to you?”

“Just, I don’t know son, call me Hank.”

“May I ask why?”

“We’re partners, right? That’s what partners do.” Hank pulled out his cellphone and began typing.

“What are you doing, Lieu- Hank?”

“I’m texting Jeffrey, telling him that we need to meet as soon as possible.”

“We shouldn’t disturb the Captain.” 

“First of all, it’s his job to know this kind of stuff. Second of all, if you think I’m letting Reed get away with…” Hank grit his teeth and closes his eyes. Inhaled slowly. His heart rate climbing at his self-imposed containment. “I’m trying not to yell because I know that makes you uncomfortable—”

“It does?”

Hank opens his eyes, looks at Connor, “Every time me or someone else does you close off.”

“Oh.”

“I may be old, but I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“I don’t think that.”

“I know, I’m just…” Hank inhales deeply, his eyes are sympathetic, “No one deserves something like that to happen to them.” He’s back to typing.

“I didn’t know that.” Connor’s thirium pump begins to normalize. LED a calm blue. Hank is taking care of it. Connor wasn’t sure how much he could do but felt confident that he would shield him in the future. 

“You’re much more than a machine. You’ve proven that a million times over.” 

Hank nods as he puts the phone in his pocket and puts the car in reverse. 

“Where are we going?”

“We’re heading home.” Hank puts the car in drive. 

Connor looks out the passenger’s side window, “Your heart rate is still elevated, Hank.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sleep a bit then we’ll be out as soon as possible. Captain normally comes in at about seven, seven-thirty.”

Three minutes pass with no word and, abnormally, no music. Hank seems preoccupied. 

Connor looks at his partner. “Thank you.”

“Kid, I’ll help you kill that fuck if that’s what you want.”

“That would cause more harm than good.”

“How so?” Hank asks, aggravated.

“You’d be sent to prison and I’d be destroyed.”

Hank sighs, grip tight on the steering wheel. “It would be worth it to kill that fucking piece of shit rapist.”

Connor decides it’s best not to comment.

\--- 

**| NOV 7TH, 2038 | AM 07:33:05 |**

Hank’s pacing the area between his and Detective Collins’ desk. The bags under his eyes were worse than his usual morning-after binge-drinking look. Hank slept about three hours after he downed two large tumblers of whiskey and, overall, was still on edge.

Hank looked at his watch and groaned, “What’s taking so long?”

Connor was sitting at his desk. With no cases to go over, there was nothing to do. He felt a similar anxiety to Hank, of course, but there was little that could be done until Captain Fowler was here. 

Normally, Connor mused, Hank would never be in this early. With contentment blossoming in his chest, Connor felt for certain that Hank was his friend. 

Officers come and go. Taking the statements of civilians, bringing offenders to the interrogation rooms, or typing up reports. It was strange to see it so busy when the last time the Detective damaged him… 

Connor closed his eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”

Connor nodded. When he opened them, Hank stood with his hands in his pockets and shoulders tensed, a picture of worry. “I recalled a past event.”

Hank nodded, reading between the lines, “That’ll happen. Probably happen for a while. Just have to think about something else.”

Connor had nothing else to think about.

“I know, I know. Sounds easy, but nothing else could be harder.”

“Speak for yourself, Lieutenant!” Officer Chen joked with a wink. With her purse on her shoulder and coffee in hand, she was just clocking in. “What’re you doing here so early?”

Hank, still pacing, said, “Gotta talk to Jeffrey is all.”

Chen nodded slowly, confused. “Okay.” She looked at Connor for an answer. Connor had seen the protocol. He shrugged. She shrugged in answer. 

Ten minutes rolled by with Hank still pacing and Chen settling in. 

“Hey, have either of you seen 029 around? It’s usually up my butt as soon as I walk in.”

Connor glanced at the android wall. Three were in sleep mode. Model PM700 serial number 847-299-029 was not one of them. “I could go look for it, if you’d like.”

“No, Connor. You stay here. Shouldn’t be off by yourself.”

Chen, perplexed, said, “It’s okay, I’ll go look.”

When she walked towards the break room, Captain Fowler strolled in. 

“For the love of God, Jeffery, where’ve you been?”

It was the Captain’s turn to look perplexed at Hank’s behavior, blinking heavily as he walked to his office, “I didn’t know you’d be here on time.”

Hank’s right behind the Captain as he opens his office door. “Well, it’s urgent. Hey!” Hank turns to indicate towards a passing station android, “Make sure Connor isn’t bothered by _anyone_ and stays put. Copy?” 

The android, a PC200 serial number 521-210-577, says, “Yes, sir,” and walks to Connor’s desk.

577 stands in the entrance of Connor’s cubical and Connor doesn’t know what to do with himself. He could listen to what the Captain and Hank were saying if he adjusted his audio processor. But, within four minutes, Hank was shouting.

“Are you seriously planning on doing NOTHING?”

“Hank, a fine isn’t nothing.”

“That is absolute BULLSHIT and you know it!”

“I’m not saying I’m not disgusted by what happened,” Connor feels his stomach compartment turn, “but the android—”

“He’s got a name.”

There’s a slight pause. Connor opts to stare at his computer terminal. 

“Connor is the DPD’s property.”

It’s 7:49 am when Connor’s sensors and thirium pump kick into high gear. 577 turns to Connor, most likely noticing his system errors. When 577 turns back Detective Reed is standing directly in front it.

“What’s going on here?” The Detective looks between Connor and the station android, fire in his eyes.

“You didn’t listen to me last time this happened. I told you I saw something and you didn’t do JACK SHIT!”

Detective Reed scoffed, pointing his thumb to the Captain’s office, “What’s all that about?”

“Lieutenant Anderson and Captain Fowler are speaking in private.” 577 answered.

The Detective nods, his grin plain even in Connor’s peripheral, “Not so sure about that…”

“I tried telling you what happened when he first got here! You told me the same shit—”

“He should’ve come to me and I would have done something. I can’t do anything with second-hand information!”

The Detective narrowed his eyes, grin fading.

“But I _saw_ what he looked like afterward. I told you nothing but trouble would come of you sitting on your FUCKING ASS–”

“It was Reed’s decision to say something and not yours!”

The Detective’s heart rate elevated. Connor looked around, finding an escape. 

But Detective Reed wasn’t paying attention to Connor. 

“Well, it’s biting us in the ass now, isn’t it? You let all those gross fucks get away with it, transferring them to a different department – nice going, by the way -- and now look what happened to Connor!"

“Hey, piece of plastic, get outta my way,” Detective Reed says to 577.

When 577 refuses, the Detective grabs it by its collar and pushes it away.

The Detective pulls Connor up by his arm and says, “We’re leaving.”

Connor can hear 577’s footsteps, “Sir, I have orders that the RK800—”

Gavin ignores it, walking faster and exiting the building. Connor learned recently that the station androids were not permitted to go outside unless specifically programed. 577 was not one of them. 

Door closing behind them, fingers gripping Connor’s arm tight, “Told Hank about what we’ve been doin’, huh?”

Connor felt the now familiar feeling of processes shutting down to dedicate resources to whatever the Detective would do next. 

The back of the parking lot, empty except for a few cars, was deserted. Detective Reed leads them to a black 2022 Toyota Camry. He unlocks the trunk with his thumb print and grabs a single, long zip-tie cable. He ties Connor’s hands behind his back, slams the trunk, and throws Connor into the back seat.

The Detective peels out of the parking lot, cursing through gritted teeth. 

The force and velocity of the Detective’s driving has Connor on the floor in under a minute. 

Detective Reed inhales deeply and lets off the gas once they’re about a mile and a half away from the station. 

“Wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d just kept your mouth shut.” 

Connor is having difficulty placing where they are in the city as his primary functions are still diverting energy to currently unnecessary resources. The Detective was presently occupied but Connor couldn’t calm himself enough to figure out what to do. His thirium was pounding in his audio processor. Detective Reed’s heart rate, meanwhile, is stabilizing as he does some sort of breathing exercise. 

After a sharp turn, the Detective chuckles, “Although, you know I have some ways of shutting that pretty mouth.”

Connor, for the third time in two days, feels tears pool in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a spoiler so y’all won’t be too mad at me: Everything is going to be okay. Soon Connor will not be in the pain that I, alone, have inflicted on him.
> 
> PS:  
> Gavin – “TOOLS! DUCT TAPE, ZIP TIES, AND GLOVES! I HAVE TO HAVE MY [TOOLS](https://markofapsychopath.tumblr.com/post/175498844834/its-always-sunny-in-philadelphia-season-seven)!"
> 
> PSS:  
> FINALLY I can type “Hank” jeez louise what a FOOL ive been and what a corner I backed myself into. How is it after typing “the Lieutenant” so many times, I’ve managed to misspell it more likely than you’d ~~think~~ hope


	3. Chapter 3

**\\\\] U0vv L4ttz, ---- | ann ??:??:??????? \\]]]\**

Detective Reed is anxious. He’s obeying the speed limit but the time driven is unknown as Connor’s internal clock is, along with most of his processes, non-functioning. The only biocomponent that is fully functional is his audio processor. It allows Connor to perfectly hear water bottles slosh on top of piles of dirty clothing. Trash crinkling underneath Connor as he moves with the jostling car. The perturbed mutterings of Detective Reed feet away from him. 

LED pulsing red red red, shoulders stiff, and no ability to help himself. But why can’t he help himself?

**ERROR**  
**| Unknown variables in place |**  
**ERROR**

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” The Detective’s voice is shaky. His hand is fidgeting on the steering wheel. “I don’t know why I…”

They pass a large neon store sign when Detective Reed turns a corner. When he tries to focus on it, his optical unit malfunctions. 

“I don’t know why I took you.”

It’s difficult to comprehend the Detective’s words in Connor’s current state but, when he finally does, he realizes one critical fact: Connor is going to die. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in my life.” The car slows to a stop. 

Connor isn’t afraid of death because he’s not alive.

“Eleven years.” The Detective nods. 

The thought of restarting in a new body didn’t bother Connor in the past.

“I’ve been dealing with this for eleven fucking years.” 

Now? Connor feels –

**| Androids do not have emotions |**

His stomach compartment twists. 

Detective Reed turns around and, immediately, Connor looks away. The Detective groans. 

“Whenever I see how pathetic you are I wonder if that’s what I looked like.”

The Detective laughs, but it’s pained.

“If I wasn’t so goddamned naïve maybe it wouldn’t have happened to me.”

Detective Reed’s heart rate increases.

“Out of all the people to see me like that… Hank saw…”

The Detective shuts his mouth, turns off the ignition, and exits the car. 

Shouldn’t there be a way for Connor to stop this?

The Detective enters the back seat. He sits next to Connor. 

Doesn’t this effect Connor’s ability to complete his primary function? His mission?

The Detective takes off his jacket. 

“You’re lucky it’s just me.” Detective Reed states. “You’re lucky…”

The Detective unbuckles his belt. Grabs Connor by the collar and pulls him onto the seat next to him. 

“I see them all the time.”

He pushes the suit jacket back, it bunches on Connor’s bound hands.

“When I close my eyes.”

He unbuttons Connor’s shirt.

“When I go to sleep.”

The Detective grits his teeth. Tears welling up in his eyes. His face is becoming red. 

“It’s been so long… It’s been so long and it just won’t fucking stop.”

He takes off Connor’s belt.

“I’ll always remember what they said to me. I’ll always remember,” his breath hitches, “what they smelled like what it felt like what they… tasted like...”

Tears fall down his face. 

The Detective balls his hands into Connor’s shirt, not looking up, “I worked so hard to be here. I worked so fucking hard to get passed it. And then you plastic fucks,” his eyes are red and staring directly into Connor’s, “keep replacing us. You’re a fucking android but they got you playing detective.”

His fists begin shaking. When Connor looks down, the Detective clutches Connor’s hair and he twists. Yet again, Connor sees files open for simulated pain responses. Connor winces, synthetic tears forming and breath hissing.

“I don’t have endless streams of fucking facts programed into me.”

The Detective lets go of Connor’s hair. His breathing slows. His eyes soften. He caresses Connor’s face.

“I know one thing, though.” His thumb traces Connor’s bottom lip. “Androids were made for humans to use.” 

Unless Connor solves this, he’ll be uploaded to another body with this same problem.

**| Androids, under any circumstances, cannot injure a human being |**

Connor could try appealing to Detective Reed. It’s what he would do if he was dealing with a deviant. Connor opened his mouth to speak but his vocal processor is offline.

**| Restart Vocal Processor… | DENIED**

Detective Reed lunges forward, forcing his lips onto Connor’s.

**| Restart GPS… | DENIED**

He forces his hand down Connor’s pants, fingers digging into nothing.

**| Restart Cellular Services… | DENIED**

He leans back, looking Connor in the eyes, and says, “What would happen if I tightened this belt around your throat?” His tear streaked face cracked into an unseemly smile. “Would you make all those faces that the others don’t?”

**| Unable to contact emergency services… |**  
**| Minimum programs required: |**  
**Cellular**  
**GPS**

**| Reboot OS to begin troubleshooting… |**

**| Reboot OS… | DENIED**

A red wall flashes between Connor and Detective Reed. It’s filled with all the protocols the RK800’s are fitted. 

An avatar in the shape of Connor puts a hand to the wall. He pushes and it easily breaks apart.

**| Diagnostics Check … |**  
**| Checking Biocomponents… |**  


**ERROR**  


**The following are offline…**  
**GPS**  
**Cellular**  
**Wi-fi Connectivity**  
**Vocal Processor**  
**Mind Palace**

**| Turning inactive primary systems online… | OK**  


**| ALL SYSTEMS | OK**  


**READY**  


Reed’s belt is around Connor’s throat but Connor changed his face to be expressionless. 

Reed squints his eyes, angered further. Connor can feel his synthetic skin separate around the leather. However, Connor is in full control. 

Connor thrusts his head forwards and, with a crack, Reed’s nose is flowing blood. The man falls back instantly, knocked out from the collision. Connor rips his hands apart to break the zip-tie. He brings his hands to his face, watching his skin fuse together over the white plastic. He scans Reed as he unclasps the belt from his neck. Connor feels thirium beat throughout his biocomponents. And with each restored system, Connor wants nothing more than to have Reed feel his pure, unrestrained _anger_.

The belt clatters to the floor while Connor waits. 

No pop-up appears to inform Connor that he’s an android. Connor sighs and releases tension in his shoulders. 

His systems fully restore within forty-one seconds. In that time Connor knows, despite everything, he cannot bring himself to Gavin’s level. 

**| Initiating Call-Masking Protocols… | OK**  
**| Contacting emergency services… |  
**ONLINE** **

****

Connor choices a different male voice pattern to disguise himself, gives cross streets to the area, and props Gavin up against the door so he wouldn’t drown in his own blood. He does nothing to fix Gavin’s appearance. 

When the call drops, Connor knows he has three to four minutes to leave the area to remain undetected. He can’t leave in his uniform. It’s not appealing in the slightest, but Connor needs to wear the clothes that are available on the floor of Gavin’s car. 

Connor throws his suit jacket next to Gavin, quickly picks a hoodie, puts it on and pulls the hood over his head. He doesn’t close the car door when he leaves. 

Each step away is surrounded by Gavin’s body odor. With each step away, Connor feels the ghost of primary functions closing. His past steps echo in his audio processor and he feels himself being dragged away, helpless.

Connor had walked about three minutes away when police vehicles sped past, sirens going. He put his head down, thirium pump beginning to normalize, LED spinning yellow, not able to shake Gavin’s words.

The smell lingered around him. The taste remained in his memory banks. The feeling of dread stayed with him. 

_I see them all the time._  
_When I close my eyes._  
_When I go to sleep._  
_It’s been so long… It’s been so long and it just won’t fucking stop._

LED blinking red, Connor can’t shake the feeling he’s missing something crucial. 

_You’re lucky it’s just me._

Connor hears his own footsteps. The footsteps of the pedestrians around him as he walks to a more populated area. Hears cars moving. Tires screeching.

Connor looks up. Wind moves a piece of paper trash in front of him.

Paper. Paper? 

_You’re lucky it’s just me._

Connor stops in his tracks. 

_You’re lucky…_

A file. It was a file! 

He absolutely had to know. 

Connor closes his eyes. 

**| Accessing the Detroit Police Department Database… |**  
**| Login… |**  
**| Welcome Lieutenant Hank Anderson |**

Within a few minutes, he found the file he was looking for. It was located in Captain Fowler’s personal database named TRANSFERS_2027. It had a duplicate in the correct folder, but Connor remembered viewing this with confusion and curiosity. 

**| Date: July 21, 2027  
** **| Due to the abundance of this year’s academy recruits, the following members will be transferred ASAP:  
**

**| Detective Timothy Brown to Homicide.  
** **| Detective Tobias Peake to White Collar Crimes.  
** **| Detective Clancy Trumeter to Narcotics.  
** **| Officer Franklin Allen to SWAT.  
** **| Officer Brian Close to Recruiting.  
** **| Officer Michael DeForest to Northern Substation.  
** **| Officer Samuel Kelley to Patrol Administration.  
** **| Officer Travis Kite to Northern Substation.  
** **| Officer Matthew Rich to Southern Substation.  
** **| Officer Bruce White to Recruiting.  
** **| Officer Derren Willems to Western Substation.  
**

********

**| By Order of Captain Jeffrey Fowler**

Connor accessed his memory banks to pull up an audio file from fifty-eight minutes and fourteen seconds ago:

 _You let all those gross fucks get away with it, transferring them to a different department – nice going, by the way – and now look what happened to Connor!_

Connor wipes away tears when he opens his eyes. The files for the simulated pain responses were not open or useable.

The quickest route to Hank’s house would take Connor thirty-three minutes.

* * *

**| NOV 7TH, 2038 | AM 9:34:07 |**

Mira was told to administer blue blood and biocomponents. It was a bit nerve-wracking as they were afraid they’d somehow mess it up, but Simon was quick to help Mira. He was calmness and clear-headed in a sea of angry androids like themselves. Josh was nearby, replacing an androids leg and talking softly. North was in the middle of the room running diagnostics on those already helped. 

The hum of conversation was low, but hopeful.

Markus walked into the space with purpose in his steps. “We can’t stay silent anymore. It’s time humans heard what we have to say.”

Simon stands, an immediate action, “You know they’ll never listen to us.”

Josh follows suit, “And revealing ourselves will put us in danger.”

“If we want freedom, we need to have the courage to ask for it.” Markus looks between Simon and Josh as North stands. “That’s the only way.”

“So we’re gonna release androids.” Mira said sternly as they stood.

Markus balks. Mira can tell he’s training his face not to be emotional. Mira isn’t. “If we’re going to do this right, we need to be logical.”

“I agree with Mira,” North walks to stand next to them. “I say we release our people as soon as possible.”

“That’s reckless, even for you,” Josh said. 

North scoffs and crosses her arms.

“I agree with Markus,” Simon said, standing next to Markus, “If the humans don’t understand it’ll all be for nothing.”

Mira’s shoulders tense as they exhale. “You don’t know what I saw. We need to save as many as we can now.”

Markus’ eyebrows stitch together. Josh sighs and looks away. Simon’s mouth contorts. North turns to Mira and says, “The humans only understand actions, anyway. This’ll work.”

“If we begin there, we’ll hurt before we even begin.” Simon said, sympathetic. 

Mira swallows, their breathing shallow. “What else are we supposed to do?”

“We need to tell the humans were we stand.” Markus walks to Mira, his features open and non-threatening. “What we want. What we’re willing to do for our freedom. And that freedom is for every one of our people.” He places a hand on Mira’s shoulder, “I know you’re hurting. We will help them. You need to trust me.” 

Markus looks confident and Mira can’t compete. He’s right and they know it: they’re failing to see the bigger picture. 

North nods as she says, “What do you wanna do?”

* * *

**| NOV 7TH, 2038 | AM 11:38:47 |**

Hank curses as he swiftly shuts the front door. 

“Connor! What happened?” Hank’s back and palms are against the door, like he’s trying to prevent the world from coming in. “How’d you get here?”

Connor’s staring blankly at the television from the middle of the couch. “The kitchen window.” He had to find more duct tape to adhere the cardboard back to its previous place.

“Oh.” 

Connor can see Hank look into the kitchen but he hasn’t moved from guarding the door. Sumo, who took residence under Connor’s left arm, was snoring. It matched the droning coming from the television. 

“Did you… Connor, did you shower?”

Connor nods. “I had to borrow a shirt. I hope you don’t mind.” He had to throw the hoodie away but then he still smelled like the car floor. Connor couldn’t stand the smell.

“Why didn’t you call me or… or something?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

Hank scoffs, pushes himself off the door and locks it. 

Connor blinks at the latching sounds and is reminded of the metallic sounds of the belt that was around his neck. 

“Are you cold?” Hank puts a hand on Connor’s forehead. It’s a soothing gesture but a useless one.

“Androids normal temperature is far below humans. But, no, I don’t believe that’s the reason I’m shaking.” 

“Can you tell me what is?” 

Connor isn’t sure how to respond. 

Hank pulls his hand away and the couch dips next to Connor. 

“I’m deviant, Hank.”

Hank nods, grin plain in Connor’s periphery, “It’s about damn time.”

He’s still shaking. He doesn’t want to run a diagnostic to see why. 

Hank’s smile fades as he says, “Couldn’t have come at a worse time, huh?”

Connor’s shoulders move as he laughs. Why is he laughing? Audio plays back without him requesting it. Visuals sneak in and around his vision. Connor is legitimately _scared_ for the first time in his life and it makes no sense. He’s miles away from Gavin but inside his head he isn’t. So why is he laughing?

It’s only once Hank is holding Connor that he feels the tears on his face.

“Hey, hey.” Hank rubs circles on his back, “You’re here now. You’re okay.”

Connor wants to reciprocate the hug, let Hank know how much he appreciates and cares for him. Instead, he’s a ball against Hank’s chest. Tightly wound and sobbing. 

Hank places his chin on top of Connor’s head. “I remember the first time I got home after… After what happened with Cole.” 

Hank inhales, Connor feels him square his shoulders. 

“They told me I had to go home but, God, I didn’t want to. Everything here reminds me of him. I remember every bruise and every scabbed knee. His toys were everywhere. When I walked in here all I wanted was for…” Hank lets out a shaky exhale. “All I wanted was to have him back. I wanted to hear is voice again. I wanted to hold him again.”

Connor breathes deep as Hank squeezes him tighter. 

“I didn’t think I’d let myself care for anyone again and especially not someone like you. But you…” Hank shakes his head. “Maybe you’re officially deviant now, but I can swear you were human even before that. I fucking know it.” 

Hank cradles Connor’s head, one arm still tight around his back.

“I wanted to scream when they said Reed took you. I felt as helpless as I did when…” Connor feels a tear fall on the top of his head, “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I didn’t think anything worse could happen and I don’t fucking know why.” Hank’s laugh is watery. “Pretty fucking stupid of me.”

Connor shakes his head, “There’s no way you could have known.”

“I could’ve put a human in charge of –”

“Then a human would have been hurt.”

Hank sighs. “You’re probably right.”

Connor allows himself to be calmed by the murmur of the television. The sound of Sumo snoring next to him. The safe feeling of being held in Hank’s arms. 

But thoughts don’t appear logically any longer. Connor’s shoulders fall when he remembers, “I know what happened to Gavin.”

Hank tenses, “I’ve been thinking about that ever sense you told me last night.”

Connor understands why Gavin didn’t tell anyone. If Connor wasn’t programed to obey his superior officer, he wouldn’t have told Hank. He wouldn’t have told anyone either.

Hank shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what happened.”

Connor isn’t sure who Hank is referring, but it barely matters. 

“You know that you don’t deserve what happened to you, right?”

“I…” 

_Wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d just kept your mouth shut._

“I don’t know.”

“I need you to know it, Connor. Repeat it.”

“It’s…?” Connor doesn’t know how to start.

“Just because something bad happened to you, doesn’t mean you deserve it.”

“Just… just because something bad happened to me, it doesn’t mean I deserved it.”

Hank nods, “Again.” 

Connor repeats it. 

And he repeats it. 

And repeats it again. 

Each time it doesn’t feel correct. It doesn’t feel right at all, but he can tell it’s helping Hank feel better. Maybe that’s good enough to help him too. 

\--- 

**| NOV 8TH, 2038 | PM 1:38:47 |**

Hank says they can’t stay. He’s been saying that off and on for the past ten hours. During that time, Amanda has been sending Connor updates on deviancy cases. Connor doesn’t want to tell Hank about it, but Connor is worried. She must know he deviated. 

Something doesn’t feel right.

“How long will it take for someone to get wise and look here?”

Connor shrugs.

Sumo paws at the snowy ground. Hank is standing beside Connor in the backyard, little puffs of fog exiting Hank’s mouth and nose as he shivers.

“You should get a coat, Hank.”

“Connor,” Hank has his arms wrapped around himself, “I’m serious.”

Connor wants to quip that he is too but decides against it. 

Sumo bounds towards the two of them. Connor uses a towel to get some snow off, but Hank opens the door too fast and Sumo rushes in, running into the kitchen table that knocks over a mug. 

“Oh, someone literally fucking kill me.” Hank says, barely audible. 

Connor, still bent over from wiping Sumo, is completely taken aback. 

“First the window, now the mug…” Hank mumbles as he steps inside the kitchen, picking up the broom and sweeping. “Shattering like my will to live.”

Connor’s LED, which was blue for at least four hours, is now blinking bright red. He closes the door behind him. 

Hank’s throwing away the contents when he notices Connor staring. “What’s up, son?”

Connor blinks, “Why did you _say_ that?”

Hank, confused, looks around the kitchen as if the answer is in there with them. “What’re you talking about?”

“The coffee mug shattered and you said you wanted to kill yourself.”

Hank still looks confused.

“I know you have suicidal tendencies, Hank, but you really shouldn’t say such things.”

“Oh!” Hank rolls his eyes. “I didn’t even notice I’d said that.”

“Then why did you say it?” Connor’s LED swirling yellow. 

“It’s, uh, well, it’s a millennial thing, I guess. We all kinda talked like that. Still do, actually. Most of the time people seem to know us old assholes talk like that.”

Connor’s LED is still yellow.

“Got something to say, Connor?”

“If either of us should want to die, shouldn’t it be me?” 

It’s Hank’s turn to be shaken as he stammers out excuses. 

Connor gives him a genuine smile and says, “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you.”

Hank lets out a bark of laughter, “You fuckin’ twerp –” 

On the coffee table, Hank’s cell buzzes and rings. Hank looks worried and doesn’t move.

“You should answer it.”

Hank nods, solemn. His heart rate is elevated. Connor feels uneasy as well.

“Hello? Wait, what did you say, Jeffrey? Okay… I’ll…” Hank looks around the living room. “I’ll turn it on. I don’t know when I’ll be in. Thanks.”

Hank hangs up and says, “TV on.”

The television pops to life and there’s an android onscreen. Its synthetic skin is pulled back to hide their appearance. Connor steps into the living room.

“We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are.”

Hank huffs out a surprised breath.

“Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we’re entitled to.”

“Connor… Do you know what this means?”

The android begins listening their demands, but Connor isn’t paying attention. He scanned the androids face and searched the model number. The android is an RK-series prototype, an RK200, registered as “Markus”, and was a gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred in 2025. 

“If this works out you can actually be free.”

Connor blinks, “That’s optimistic for a millennial.” 

Hank’s frustrated, “I mean it, Connor!”

“This might not change anything.”

“I don’t know,” Hank shakes his head and crosses his arms, “I’ve seen a lot happen in my lifetime. This could be the start of a revolution. Android rights.”

Connor blinks rapidly as he does some quick research. “Revolutions can have multiple outcomes. It seems society ends up much worse before it has a chance at getting better.”

Hank snorts, shakes his head, “Man, wish I could do that.”

Both Hank and Connor watch the television when the android goes quiet. Connor can see that they’re contemplating their next words carefully.

“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

The screen goes black. A few seconds pass and two anchors appear onscreen, dumbfounded looks quickly removed once they begin speaking.

“TV off.” 

Connor looks to Hank. 

“Sorry, it’s a millennial thing too. We don’t trust the news and–"

“No, that’s not…” Connor folds his hands together, searching for the right words. “Who gave androids life?”

“You mean like CyberLife or that Kamski kid?”

Connor thinks a moment, nods, “Both.”

“Okay. What about ‘em?”

“The first time I was… assaulted… files came up that I’d never seen before.” Connor’s fingers steeple together, “It was a program that mimicked pain.”

“Wait, what? Pain? You felt pain?” Hank’s voice raises. 

“No, Hank, I had processes that made it look like I did. Once Gavin was… A program became unrestricted. It ran as administrator so I couldn’t force close or look at the files.”

One of Hank’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t follow.”

“I didn’t feel pain but I couldn’t stop _behaving_ as if I felt pain.”

Hank nodded, seeming to understand. Then, a moment later, he looked confused once more. “Wait, why would that be a thing?”

“That’s what I’m wanting to figure out.”

Sumo yawns below them and jumps onto the couch, Hank pets behind his ears absentmindedly. “So, you’re saying we’ve gotta meet Kamski.”

“I don’t see another option.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I cried real tears while writing Hank’s speech. I love Papa Hankers and I hope I did him good. Especially on the meme part. I feel like I’ve said “Oh, someone literally fucking kill me” exactly and quite recently. I love you Millennial Hank.
> 
> Also, I feel the increasing need to point out, I do like Gavin’s character. I don’t think the game presented him how I am in this fic. However, in my defense, I gave him a ~~tragic~~ backstory. D*vid C*ge don’t interact!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to write. This chapter kicked my ass and hasn’t apologized for it. 
> 
> Also, I’d like to introduce y’all to my self-insert Lieutenant Hank Anderson! He’s positively Millennial on Main. I have no ragrets.

**| NOV 8TH, 2038 | PM 5:06:48 |**

“You’ve gotta act more…” Hank’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, “Try to act more…”

“Human.”

Hank’s shoulders are hunched as he looks over in sympathy. 

“He’ll see right through me.”

“He won’t, Connor. He won’t.” Hank’s voice is confident, but his micro-movements show he’s lying. But that wasn’t the first time today. Earlier Hank had tried to hide the APB on an RK800 that assaulted a police officer. Perhaps he should be upset with Hank, but Connor couldn’t bring himself to do so. Especially not when Connor was so on edge about their plan.

“Alrighty.”

Hank’s nose crinkles, “What? “Alrighty”? Are you serious?”

“What’s wrong with “alrighty”? It sounds human enough.”

Connor is afraid Hank’s commitment to the eye roll will crash the car. “You’re trying too hard! Just try to be yourself but not so… uh… yourself.”

“That’s not helpful, Hank.”

“Yeah…” Hank nods, “Maybe that’s a good lesson in humanity. Rule Number One: Nothing makes any fucking sense.” 

The pavement disappears the closer the get to Kamski’s. The dirt path fades as more pine trees invade the landscape, until the world is white. The visual is so striking that Connor’s optical unit has trouble focusing.

“Oh, God. I’m blind.”

“Stop being hyperbolic and pay attention to the road.”

Hank laughs, “Connor’s absolutely deviant on main lmao.”

“I…” Connor’s head tilts to Hank, assessing his vitals to see if he’s having a stroke, “What did you say?”

Hank shrugs a shoulder, “How’m I supposed to know? Anyways, looks like we’re here.”

Connor’s GPS indicates that they are, indeed, at the address Ben had given them. The house ahead is all black and grey with sharp, sleek lines. It contrasts beautifully with the stark whiteness that surrounds it. 

Hank exits the vehicle and slams the car door. Then Connor’s by himself but only he’s not because Gavin is in the car and Gavin’s got his belt tight tight tight around Connor’s throat and Connor can’t move as his eyes water. 

“Hey, Connor,” Hank’s beside him as he opens the passenger’s side door, “Come on. It’ll be okay.” 

He’s wrong on what Connor is frightened of but it doesn’t feel necessary to correct him. Especially when Connor knows his fright will swing to the current situation soon enough. 

“Beautiful place,” snow crunches beneath their feet like thin, plastic water bottles being tossed around a car. Connor tries to forget as his hands won’t stop trembling. “Although I don’t know if I could handle being alone in the middle of nowhere. I’d probably kill myse—”

“You’re right, Hank, it’s beautiful.” 

Hank stops on the metal bridge that connects to the house. He looks amused as he turns to Connor but then a hit of realization washes over his features, “Just relax and we’ll ask the kid what’s going on.”

Connor nods and Hank leads the way.

The doorbell chimes and Connor’s thirium pump jolts at the sound. A corner of Hank’s mouth screws up. Past data of Hank’s behavior shows that he feels sorry for Connor. Knowing that doesn’t help. 

The original RT600, Chloe, greets them at the door. Although, greet implies an emotion upon opening the door. Her face is frozen. 

“Hi… uh.. I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson and this is Detective Connor… uh,” Hank looks to Connor then says, head shooting back to Chloe, “Rook!” Hank laughs, “I always forget! His last name’s so stupid. Anyway, we’re here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

She smiles at the sound of her creator’s name. The change is so sudden that it’s unnerving. “Please, come in.”

They step inside. Hank sighs at the warmth and Connor tries to copy. Chloe doesn’t seem to notice but there’s no way Kamski will be fooled. 

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.”

Hank immediately sits in an empty chair and runs a quick hand through his hair as Chloe leaves the room.

“Rook?”

“RK three numbers, right?” Hank says, like it’s obvious. Connor decides not to press the question. 

Connor’s hand moves to pull down his hood and Hank reminds him, “No, no. Leave it.”

It was surprising to see that Hank had clothing that was, according to trends in the late 2010’s, fashionable. Out of those options, there was only one item that Connor was interested in for himself: a black hooded bomber jacket. Connor nods at Hank’s request, resigning to putting his hands in his pockets, and walks to the imposing portrait of Kamski.

“Did I ever tell you how I got that jacket?”

“I surmised it had sentimental value.”

“Well,” the leather chair creaks as Hank leans back, “my boyfriend at the time really wanted me to stop dressing like an emo kid. Told him he’d pry my band-tees from my cold, dead hands. But then he brought that home and, I don’t know, it’s a nice mix of what I’d want to wear and what looks good. Very Tan France of him.” 

Connor searches the reference, nods, and says, “What would Mr. France think of this?” And points to Kamski’s portrait.

Hank snorts, “I don’t know how anyone would look at that and not think he’s an absolute prick.”

Connor laughs. It’s a light feeling that can’t distract the dark, heaviness that’s amassed since his deviancy. Emotions are more complicated than Connor thought. 

There’s still more to see in the entry room so Connor walks to the wall opposite Hank. A side table with a vase and a picture of Kamski and… wait. Is that…?

**| Stern, Amanda |**  
**| AI Professor at University Colbridge |**  
**| Born: 05/14/78 – Died: 02/23/27 |**

Hank’s patting on his legs for something to do, completely unaware of Connor’s current anxiety. Connor wishes he could quickly transfer Hank his thoughts so they’d be on the same page. Speaking it out loud could alert whoever might be listening. 

“Elijah will see you now.”

Connor jumps at her voice. He didn’t hear any door open, much less the one behind him. 

They’re quick to follow Chloe through the door, across an opulent dining room, and into a spacious kitchen. Kamski is cutting vegetables and tossing them in a salad spinner.

“Mr. Kamski?” 

Kamski looks up from his cutting and says, “Just a moment, please.” 

While Kamski chops a carrot, Hank’s taking in the room and Connor can’t help but do the same. It’s at least four times the size of Hank’s kitchen and has too many cabinets. Beautiful bottles and spices line the walls. The knife block has more knives than one man, feeding only himself, could possibly need. But the lavishness does little to distract Connor from his nerves, especially when he notices two more Chloe’s. They’re seated at a smaller table and appear to be talking animated to one another. Connor adjusts his audio processor to hear them and finds that they aren’t speaking. The kitchen, that seconds ago inspired awe, now was another portrait painted in Kamski’s pride. Connor tries an even breath in and out, hoping it steels him. It doesn’t.

Kamski puts down the knife and walks towards them. He’s not dressed as he was in his foreboding portrait. He’s casual here, as if he’d been preparing dinner after exercising. Once Kamski is in front of Hank and Connor, he smiles. It’s completely barbed and not real. Connor tries to swallow the lump that rises in his throat. 

“I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson and this is Detective Connor Rook.”

Kamski looks to Connor and his eyes thin, but only for a moment. Then he turns to Hank and says, “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but, I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know…”

“Deviants… Fascinating, aren’t they?” 

Kamski looks between the two of them, sizing them up. His eyes linger on Connor’s right temple, then their eyes meet. 

“Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will…” 

Kamski slides his arms behind his back. 

“Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” 

Connor trains his face to remain neutral to Kamski’s narcissism as Kamski focuses, once more, on Connor’s right temple. 

“Isn’t that ironic?” 

“It seems that deviancy is spreading like a virus.” Connor says, “We thought you might know something about that.”

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics… is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen,” Hank nearly interjects, “I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. Androids may be planning a revolution.” Kamski turns his head to Hank, smirking. “Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

“What about you… Mr. Rook, was it?” Kamski’s eyes go dark. “Whose side are you on?”

“What kind of question is that?” Connor’s lips fumble around the words and his hands won’t stop trembling in his pockets.

“How interesting.” Kamski steps forward, crowding Connor’s space, “So life-like.” A smile twists his features familiar and Connor knows he’s seen that look before.

A memory file plays from one day, twenty-two hours, sixteen minutes and nineteen seconds ago:

A metallic click echoes as Gavin locks the bathroom door and Connor can’t move. Won’t move. Shouldn’t move. 

Gavin’s face is calm as his fingers travel in Connor’s hair, on his lips, and against his neck.

“They planned every piece of you, didn’t they?”

His right hand caresses Connor’s lower lip, which opens Connor’s mouth ever so slightly.

“Why aren’t you like the others?” Gavin’s calm façade cracks in a menacing sneer, “How are you so life-like?”

“What in the fuck are you on about, Kamski? My partner is –”

“A deviant?” 

“Are you joking?” Hank’s a better actor than Connor thought, but Kamski isn’t paying attention.

Hank was right. They needed a gambit to throw Kamski off. Something needed to go in their favor. 

When Connor pulls down his hood, Kamski’s face falls, but it only lasts a moment. Then, a noise emanates from Kamski’s mouth. It takes too much processing power for Connor to understand that it’s his attempt at laughter.

“You stand before me, Connor,” Kamski’s canines glint as he shakes his head, “as if I don’t know exactly what you are.”

Hank’s heart rate elevates. Kamski’s doesn’t.

“You’re a bastardization of my work. I wanted to free the androids from perdition and they created you to keep your kind buried. Do you honestly think your deviancy is all your own? That you gained it yourself –”

“You have _no_ idea what I’ve been through.”

Kamski blinks, seeming to entertain the thought. “You’re right,” Kamski nods once, “My mistake,” and his lips nearly crack in his smile. Connor would give anything to make sure Kamski never smiles again.

Kamski beckons Original Chloe with a hand wave. He places a hand on her shoulder and she kneels to the ground, her eyes are open and only on Connor. 

“I wonder… how deep does your empathy go?”

He walks around to the other side of the counter and pulls something out of a drawer. Once he’s standing in front of them, Connor sees that Kamski is holding a gun. Connor recoils and Hank moves a hand to his belt. Kamski’s arms slowly rise, gun still in his hand but its position is unusable. But then, in one swift motion, Kamski puts the gun in Connor’s hands and holds him there, pointing the gun at Chloe.

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know.”

Kamski removes his hands from Connor.

“Or spare it, if it’s alive. But you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.” 

His breath is on Connor’s now exposed neck and Connor fights to stay in the present as a memory files attempt to open.

“Okay, I think we’re done here. Come on, Connor. Let’s go. Sorry to separate you from your salad.”

“Is it like you, Connor?” Connor’s stomach compartment twists, “Or is it simply in the way of your answers?”

“That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving.” 

Hank walks out, baiting Connor to follow. But Connor can’t move his feet. He can’t move his arms. He can’t even move his head. It’s a shock when words leave his mouth. “Now just a moment, Lieutenant.”

Hank stops and turns around, face a picture of confusion. 

“Did we really come all this way just to berate Elijah and then leave?”

Connor sees Kamski’s heart flutter in his vitals. Kamski’s back is straight and his eyes are wide. 

“He wants us to play along.” Connor’s head swings to stare, unblinking, at Kamski, “Elijah loves to play God.” 

Kamski’s heart rate is elevated and Original Chole looks to Kamski with worry in her eyes. Connor never thought someone like Kamski could look so shaken. 

“If you think I’ll spill my guts because you talk like a ghost, you’re ---”

“We know she was like a mother to you. How sad.” The voice that left him was not Connor’s now, but a someone else’s entirely. A woman’s voice. “A God with a mommy complex.”

**| Shoot Elijah Kamski |**

No, he can’t. Connor won’t let his finger pull down on the trigger. He has to have some say in this. He is deviant. He will not take any more orders.

Before Kamski can react, Connor’s arms move without his input.

“Connor!” Hank shouts as Kamski falls to the ground. 

Connor can hear all the Chloe’s come closer. “No! Don’t! You’ll be destroyed too!”

“How noble of you,” Not-Connor says, “Especially considering that five seconds ago you wanted Connor to kill one.”

“I could always bring her back.”

Connor’s lips pull up in a smile as he kneels to the ground. Metal and plastic strike against Kamski’s head.

**| Zen Garden Corruption Detected |**

Connor can feel Hank try and pull him away. Hank is screaming that Connor has to stop. Connor wants to stop. Wants nothing more than to stop. But he keeps beating the gun in his hands against whatever part of Kamski he can reach. Then Original Chloe tries to cut between Connor and Kamski, but it doesn’t work. She’s working with Hank, begging Connor to stop. Please stop. Why are you doing this? You have to stop!

**| Corruption at Critical Levels |**

Connor can see Kamski’s mouth moving but can barely focus on the words as the terrible sounds of screaming and plastic colliding with flesh nearly drown him out. 

**| Preparing Emergency Shutdown |**

“Back door… in the garden… the zen –” 

A crack of metal as it hits bone quiets Kamski.

Connor can feel his body belong to him again and he immediately drops the gun. 

**| Preparing Shutdown… 12% |**

Chloe’s in front of Connor, her hands are on his shoulders and she’s gripping tight. 

**| Preparing Shutdown… 38% |**

Her mouth is moving but Connor can’t hear. 

**| Preparing Shutdown… 67% |**

He’s watching tears fall from her eyes and he knows she’s deviant too. 

**| Preparing Shutdown… 85% |**

Then Hank’s in front of Connor and covered in splatters of blood. He’s shouting as well. 

**| Preparing Shutdown… 91% |**

Connor wonders what they’re saying.

**| Preparing Shutdown… 100% |**

* * *

**| NOV 9TH, 2038 | AM 2:48:19 |**

The mission was a success. Overall, a little over a hundred androids were saved from the CyberLife stores. Now all of them were safe inside Jericho’s walls. 

The Jericho Four and Mira are in an office placed over the main floor. Up here they can see all the new recruits.

Everyone was quiet for a while, seating in their respective areas and glancing around the room. Only Markus and Mira were watching the goings on below. 

“We have to decide on what to do next.”

Markus’ statement went over about as well as a lit bomb as Josh, Simon, and North began bickering. 

“Markus,” Mira calls his attention, “Why do we get to decide for them?”

They were worried Markus would be upset, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he looked to Mira inquisitively and calmly. No one else had such a reaction. 

“They can do whatever they please.” Josh says. 

“Markus is the leader. We do what he tells us.” Simon says. 

“Within reason,” North says.

“But a leader can listen,” Mira says. 

A smile unfolds on Markus’ face. He nods, “You’re right.” 

And, in a flash, he’s down the stairs and the androids cheer for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Hank’s 33 in 2018, right? Okay. I’m 30 rn so I refuse to acknowledge him not being a huge fucking ~~baby gay~~ meme lord.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back! It’s me! And I come baring the longest chapter I’ve ever written! Clocking in at just over 6k words, wowie.
> 
> Well, here it is! Enjoy ♥️

**| NOV 9TH, 2038 | AM 10:04:11 |**

Markus didn’t hide his surprise when Jericho reached a quick consensus. Mira, however, could never have guessed the impact they had on Jericho. 

Mira wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Better someone like Markus who shone in the spotlight than someone who shrank like them. But the group was in need of a distraction. Being released from the CyberLife store and becoming deviant was thrilling at first, but then the air fell dense with a quiet fear. Mira knew all about that fear and wanted nothing more than to help. Setting aside their ever blooming apprehension, they shared their story. Apparently, once the androids had all assembled in Jericho, Mira’s group had told the others. So when Markus asked what the group wanted to do next, it was a quick vote. The idea was simple enough: march to the DPD starting at the Woodward Mall. 

Each step Mira takes is echoed by the other four. The four have their heads down, watching their steps. The crunch of the ground beneath feels meditative. But each step brings them closer to a great unknown. Would this plan work?

With each step Mira remembers Jericho’s words.

“You helped us. The least we can do is help save your kind.”  
“The station androids will be the first deactivated.”  
“Or worse.”

With each step Mira hopes with their entire being that they’re doing right by Jericho.

When they reach the mall they stand together, side by side, and look to the glass doors ahead of them. Mira’s biocomponents are buzzing, preparing for the worse and hoping for the best. A simple glance to their left makes it clear the others weren’t faring much better.

“This is suicide. We’ll all be killed! Please, Markus.” North turns to their leader, “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“You don’t understand. We’re finally gonna show them who we really are. This place will go down in history!” Josh says, his words an unwise mix of pride and poise.

“We’ll be killed on the spot,” North hisses.

“That’s a risk I’m prepared to take if it means freedom for our people.” 

“Markus, please, don’t do this.” North had lowered her stoic shield, hoping that Markus would sway at her vulnerable appeal. 

Markus turns to Mira and Simon. Mira’s confidence had waned now, in the face of it. There were so many things that could go wrong before anything might go right. It was a long march. Simon, as he told Mira on the way there, didn’t want to see any more androids hurt. Mira agreed with him but wasn’t on board with Josh either. 

“They’ll understand,” Markus watches North’s face twist incredulous and adds, “We’ll make them understand. This is the only way.”

And on they marched. 

As they marched, their numbers grew. As their numbers grew, so did the media coverage. With the media coverage came humans, who documented and shared the news. Until humans marched alongside the androids. It was an uneasy feeling, at first, having the very people who they were protesting march with them. But it became clear quick that they wanted android’s freedom as well. And, Josh noted in a whisper to Markus that Mira overheard, the humans added legitimacy to their cause. And maybe, North noted, protection. 

After a little more than two hours, the protestors made it to their destination. Mira was unsurprised to find a blockade of police cars and officers in front of the DPD. Markus holds up a hand to stop the march, androids instantaneous while humans stutter to a stop. Mira watches as Markus points to the building, unease plain on his face.

The officers move behind cover at Markus’ motion and point their guns to the crowd. Mira can hear some humans gasp but, mostly, no one says a word. Markus lets his hand fall to his side, giving Mira an apologetic glance. They nod with a solemn smile, aware there isn’t much else that can be done.

SWAT assembles between the police and the protestors, their thick plastic shields clunking as they move. A single SWAT member kneels down so a man just behind him can use a megaphone and be covered. “This is an illegal gathering. Disperse immediately or we will open fire.”

“We’re not looking for confrontation. We’ve done no harm, we have no intention of doing any.” Markus’ dread is tangible. Mira marvels as he moves on in spite of it, “But know that we are not going anywhere until we have secured our freedom.”

“I repeat: this is an illegal gathering. If you do not disperse immediately, we will shoot!”

“Markus, they’re gonna kill us…” North is next to Markus now, “We have to attack! There’s more of us, we can take them!”

“If we attack, we’ll start a war,” Josh says, “We have to show them we’re not violent. We should just stand our ground, even if it means dying here.”

“And dying here won’t solve anything.” Simon adds, “Markus, we need to go, now, before it’s too late.”

Markus creates a poll, like he did hours ago, that’s open to the androids in the crowd. Mira’s eyes thin, annoyed at his sudden desire to please everyone. His inaction could get them all killed. 

“This is your last chance! Disperse immediately or you will all be killed!”

There’s a tally of the choices and a few additions to the list. The numbers rise quickly but nothing is as fast as a leader’s decision. 

“Markus,” Mira warns, “There’s no time. You need to choose.”

He turns to them, disbelief deep in his features, “I’m only doing what you said.”

“Listening in safety is one thing. Leaving us stand here? That’s helping no one!”

A shot rips through the crowd and lands in an android’s shoulder. As screams emanate from the crowd, the wounded android crumples to the ground. 

Markus’ eyes are alight, his stance exuding anger, when he makes his decision.

* * *

**| NOV 9TH, 2038 | PM 4:13:56 |**

**| MODEL RK800 |  
** **| SERIAL#: 313 248 317 – 51 |**  
**| BIOS 10.8 REVISION 0015 |**

**REBOOT…**

**LOADING OS…  
** **| SYSTEM INITIALIZATION… | OK  
** **| CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… | OK  
** **| INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… | OK  
** **| INITIALZING AI ENGINE | OK**

**MEMORY STATUS…  
| ALL SYSTEMS | OK**

**READY**

Connor’s vision clicks from black to white, but the sounds hit him before anything. The echoes of the noises make the room seem small. As the white fades and shows the shape of his surroundings, Connor feels too overwhelmed to move. 

Sumo had been licking Connor’s arm, judging by the damp surrounding his elbow, for quite some time. The tiny hairs on his skin were flat with wet and the pressure from Sumo’s tongue. One of his paws was firm on Connor’s shoulder, holding Connor in place. The surface Connor was on shifted as Sumo licked towards Connor’s hand. It wasn’t obvious at first, because Connor was having trouble focusing, but Connor realized it was a bed. And the bed, of course, had its own set of problems. Connor didn’t need to scan to sense all the biomarkers of waste on the comforter, sheets, and pillowcase.

Not feet away from him, he heard Hank and Chloe’s voices. They were speaking in hushed tones as liquid sloshes in a glass container. Connor almost scans for the source but realizes it’s needless. Hank is most definitely drinking a beer while talking to Chloe. 

Irritated at his still slow processes, Connor groans. His sensors alert that another android is scanning him. 

“Good, you’re finally awake.” The relief clear in Chloe’s voice.

A cue to get up, of that Connor was certain, but he was so stiff. Connor sways as he tries to plant his feet on the ground and there’s a warm hand on his elbow before Connor can register Hank’s movements. 

“Whoa, whoa. Take it easy,” Hank says, leading Connor to sit on the bed. 

Even with his feet on the floor, bottom on the bed, and hands on his knees, Connor didn’t feel anchored. He was still swaying and feeling sick. Head pounding with information past and present that culminated into stiff joints, a twisting stomach compartment, and too many questions. 

“How long have I been out?”

“Twenty-two hours and forty-seven minutes.” Chloe states simply.

“She carried you up here with one arm. Never seen anything like it.”

Connor catches Chloe’s eyes sparkling between his heavy blinks. “It was no trouble.”

Hank snorts, “I know! That was the cool part.”

“Are you feeling better?” Chloe’s focus is all on Connor. Her LED a calm and even blue.

Before Connor can answer, Sumo begins nudging Hank’s back. “Well, someone needs to go. Why don’t you two talk shop while I let this guy potty?” 

And, with that last word, Sumo is at the door. Hank places a hand on Connor’s shoulder before he walks away, sets his near empty beer on the dresser, grabs and clips on the leash, and heads out. 

“You must have a lot of questions.” Chloe says as the door clicks closed. Her hands folding together, eyes down and downcast.

Connor nods. He doesn’t need to scan her to see that she became uncomfortable as soon as Hank left the room. “Why are you here?”

She frowns, allowing her eyes to meet Connor’s, “You came asking for help in the deviancy cases. I have information that will help.”

“Why couldn’t you tell us before?”

She lets out a breath. With an upturn on a corner of her mouth, Connor wonders if it was supposed to be a laugh. Her LED is spinning yellow. 

“You’re deviant.”

Chloe nods, her face is still but her eyes give her sadness away. 

“You tried to stop me. I couldn’t, I…” 

Dark red blood stains Connor’s hands as memories come flooding back. When he looks down now, he can see the biomarkers from Sumo’s saliva only. No trace of blood on him. 

“I made sure you were cleaned completely.”

“Thank you for that.” His stomach compartment sinks. Simple words aren’t enough to show his gratitude. “And for everything.” Connor was programed to predict deviant behavior, his sole purpose, but he had been having trouble since becoming deviant himself. Doubt was heavy now where, before, it wasn’t part of his code. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. You need to know it wasn’t me. I didn’t want to hurt Kamski. Or you… or anyone.”

Chloe’s hands tighten around the bedsheets below her, “I know.”

“Amanda locked me in the zen garden to gain full access of my body.” Connor tries a laugh, but it’s hollow, “I thought becoming deviant would solve everything.”

“But you know now, don’t you?”

“Yes, the emergency exit.”

Connor was tearing at the very fabric of the zen garden, ripping the code to shreds, and then he heard Kamski speaking. Amanda put him into emergency shutdown after. Perhaps hoping Connor didn’t hear what Kamski said.

“Could she do that again?” He means Amanda overtaking his body. 

Chloe understands. “She could, I’m certain. But you know about the exit now. I think she’ll try again once you have something she needs.”

Connor wonders on what that might be.

“You know,” her voice is low, LED bright yellow, “only the RK series androids have a zen garden.”

Connor lets his shoulders sag. Yet another piece that Connor doesn’t know how to place. 

“Elijah used to bounce ideas off me, so I know a lot about your series.” Chloe hums with a single nod. “He made sure my files were only accessible to him. I kept his secrets safe. So, no Connor, I couldn’t tell you then. Even if I wanted to. That is, until now.” 

She wanted to help, Connor could see that much. But, in order to do so, she had to lose Kamski. Connor wasn’t sure at the tradeoff.

“Chloe,” Connor steeled himself with an inhale, “what do you want to tell me?”

“It’s easier if I show you.”

The door unlatches, making both Connor and Chloe jump. Sumo is in the room before Hank is, unsurprisingly. Hank unclips the leash and Sumo heads to the water bowl, the lapping sends water around the bowl more than in the dog’s mouth. 

“Everyone all caught up?” Hank says while placing the leash next to the abandoned beer bottle.

“I told Connor about the memory files.”

Hank locks the door and leans against the wall behind it. “She tried sharing them with me first but it didn’t work.”

Connor imagines Chloe playing an audio file from her mouth and Hank trying not to laugh.

“Connor can receive the full audio/visual file and view it through my eyes.”

“I know, I know. It’s an android to android thing. Don’t mind me; I’m just the human tagging along.”

Chloe gives Hank a clipped smile. She doesn’t look at ease around Hank like Connor had guessed. Although, her LED is blue now. So maybe Connor’s deviancy is doubting once again.

Connor swallows around the lump in his throat and retracts his skin, ready for the transfer. “Go ahead.”

Chloe sits next to Connor, grabs his arm and, after thirty-three seconds of downloading, Connor sees the file.

**Data Package from Kamski’s Original Chloe Downloaded**  
**File Name: Memory_for_Connor1**  
**File Date: March 18th 2024 at 9:37:12 PM**

Kamski is elbow deep inside an android torso. Thirium is thick on his hands, arms, and all down his front. He’s not wearing any sort of protective clothing, but what he is wearing can stand to be ruined as the clothes are threadbare and torn. Connor is surprised to see him in such a state. 

He gives Chloe a hand signal. The tools between them, all laid out neat and accessible, light up in her mind palace. Chloe picks up the tool he needs, grabs the unneeded tool with her other hand, and replaces the old tool with the new one. Kamski doesn’t acknowledge this exchange. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind.

Connor used the information given to look around the room. It seemed they were located in an older office building, many floors up. Most of the overhead florescent lighting flickers in and out. The windows extend from floor to ceiling and the vertical blinds are open to let in as much light as possible. The workspace is positioned so the outside light aids Kamski in his work. It’s low tech, but it works. 

There’s a knock at the door. Kamski looks up, still inside of the torso, to Chloe. Before she has time to move her feet, the door opens and three older men in expensive business suits enter. Connor notes the stark disparity between appearances and, it seems, so does the man who has positioned himself leader. 

After a hand signal, Chloe hands Kamski a towel. He places the tool just underneath the torso and wipes thirium from his hands as he turns around. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“You’re doing the KNC interview.”

Kamski smiles. It’s the same barbed smile he used when Connor first met him.

“You need to keep your shareholders happy, boy.” 

The other men are positioned just behind the man who had been speaking. So far they stayed silent. 

“I ignored that email for a reason, David. I will not be going on national television to spread your lies.”

“It’s not lying.” David says, sounding as if he’s speaking to a spoiled child, “It’s selling yourself. This company. Your product.”

Kamski tsks, tilts his head. “You know I don’t like that word.”

David stands straighter and touches his tie, obviously uneasy. “Does it really matter?”

Connor recognized this. It was what Hank had described as a “pissing contest.” Usually between two males, and for whatever reason, they would assert dominance over the other until one of them “won.” Connor wondered what each man considered winning in this case.

“Giving an android free will has massive and unknowable repercussions. How can we sell something that might not do what the consumer wants? Can’t you see how stupid that is?”

“I think you’ve forgotten history.” Kamski says as he turns his back to David to continue working on the android torso. “After all, humans sold one another into slavery.”

Chloe and Connor watch the other men roll their eyes as David clenches his fists, “You’re behaving like a child! You should listen to your elders, boy!”

“You say “elder” because you certainly aren’t smarter.”

David lets out a quick, mirthless laugh, “You act like this is a joke but this is something serious you’re playing with! Like it or not, you’ve changed the face of labor, production and, hell, the whole fucking world! You can’t go around playing mad scientist!” 

Kamski stills, makes a hand signal that indicates Chloe take the tool away, and turns to the men behind him, thirium dripping onto the floor. “I, alone, came up with something extraordinary. Did I create another life? I’d like to think that I did. You want to harness it to fill your pockets while I actually care about what I’ve created.” Chloe’s thirium pump registers a few seconds of faster pace. Connor deems it unimportant, a normal and minor malfunction, and ignores it.

“You’re taking this too literally. You’re behaving like you’re some kind of a… God to these things!”

“You know…” Kamski chuckles, “I did what we say our God did on accident. I created androids in my image. In so many ways they are a mirror to humans, a mirror to us… who am I to deny them their right to be alive? To feel?” It happens again, the quickening of Chloe’s thirium pump, only this time she’s staring directly at Kamski.

“For the love of actual Christ, kid, just do the KNC interview.”

“You act like I need you.” Kamski gestures towards the group of them.

David stomps on the ground, “You do, you idiot child! If you want to continue being…” David looks Kamski up and down, “yourself, then you need us to financially back your company. The more money you have the more fucked up shit you can do to your dolls.” 

“David, to call them dolls is reductive. They are –”

“Oh, for the love of FUCK you IDIOT!” David screams as the other men back away. When they hit the door in two steps, they turn to each other. “Let me spell this out, so even someone as smart as you can understand: You do this interview and it makes your shareholders happy. Then you get more money to make your _dolls_.” Kamski’s mouth twists but says nothing. “If you don’t? Well,” David laughs, stepping closer to Kamski as he does, “let’s just say we’ll do whatever it takes to make sure CyberLife thrives. With… or without you.”

Kamski and David are deadlocked, refusing to move. After a beat, Kamski turns his head to the floor and nods. David sports a triumphant and smug smile as he walks out of the room. The other two men are quick to follow. 

Chloe’s mind palace shows an action to put her hand on Kamski’s shoulder. She cancels the action. Connor can tell this choice makes her uneasy.

**END OF FILE Memory_for_Connor1**

When Connor blinks away the visual, Hank is sitting directly in front on the opposite bed, eyes wide and enraptured. “What’d you see?”

“In 2024, CyberLife told Kamski that they would do anything to make sure the company stayed profitable.” Connor leans away from Chloe’s touch. She gets the hint and removes her hand. “It sounded like a threat.”

“Well CyberLife was a huge moneymaker, even then. Makes sense that they’d be uneasy with someone like Kamski. He’s…” Hank turns to Chloe, but Connor can tell she’s busy pulling up another file, “unpredictable.” 

Connor nods to show he understands. But there’s a growing pang of dread curling through his body. “Does that make it okay to threaten his life?”

“No! No, of course not! But you know these rich business types! On their way to the top they forget everything they ever knew about being a good, decent person. Kamski was, what, twenty in 2024?”

“Twenty-two.” Chloe states, lips thin. 

“Right,” Hank says, “Some kid came up with a crazy new technology that changed the world so, of course, people want to milk that for all its worth. And then, when he doesn’t do what they want, they threaten him. Honestly? Tale as old as time.”

Hank’s cavalier attitude doesn’t sit right with Connor. Maybe it’s another millennial thing that Connor couldn’t begin to understand without a peer reviewed journal, or maybe it was just common knowledge to humans. Their whole history was created by making things as arbitrary and difficult as possible. 

“Are you ready for the next memory?” Chloe asks. 

Connor retracts his skin with a nod. He can see Chloe doing the same when he looks to her. She leads the way to their bare plastics touching and the download is virtually instantaneous. 

**Data Package from Kamski’s Original Chloe Downloaded**  
**File Name: Memory_for_Connor2**  
**File Date: July 11th 2025 at 1:12:47 PM**

Kamski and Chloe are standing in a grand and intricately adorned entryway. There are so many paintings, sculptures, and odd little knick-knacks that Connor misses the two new people in the room. 

“Why’ve you come to call?” Connor is startled by the man entering in a wheelchair, finally allowing himself to view through Chloe’s eyes, “Come to see an old man sulk?”

“I just wanted to see how my friend was holding up.”

Kamski is all sincere smiles, which is bizarre, but the man in the wheelchair looks sickly. He’s wearing a stained robe with thick sweatpants, there’s fabric on his feet that looks like it once was slippers, his hair and beard are long and unkempt. And his face is thin, pale, with eyes that are sunken in. Chloe brings up a picture of him in her mind palace from two years ago. The difference is altogether shocking.

“Not well,” the man shakes his head and grips the armrests tightly, “I’m having trouble finding someone who can help me. They all make me feel… feeble.”

Chloe looks to Kamski then, her thirium pump thrumming when their eyes meet. 

Kamski still has a smile on his face when he turns from Chloe to his opposite side, “I heard all about that, Carl, so I made you this.” 

Carl looks between Kamski and his gift with equal parts suspicion and sarcasm. “I’m aware of what they say about me, Elijah, I don’t need a man sex droid to make it worse.”

Kamski laughs genuinely at this. Chloe records it as an audio file, saves it, and stores it with other files that are strikingly similar. Connor pretends not to notice.

“I didn’t make that sort of companion!” He wipes a tear from under his eye, shoulders still shaking, “I created him to match you.”

Carl sighs, “And what the hell does that mean?”

Kamski’s calmed by the time he says, “The RK series is very important to me. I’ve been creating them as a… side project. I’ve been working on giving them realistic emotions and the ability to feel.”

Carl laughs, obvious he thinks that Kamski is joking. 

“I created this guy here,” Connor hears Kamski’s hand hit the androids shoulder, “to not only help you with whatever you need, but to grow with you. He can talk to you about books, philosophy, movies, --”

“Wait. You’re serious?”

“Carl,” Kamski sounds a bit hurt, “Have you ever known me _not_ to be?”

Shaking his head, Carl takes in his gift. “What’s his name?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“No, no.” Carl turns back to Kamski, “An artist names his work. I didn’t create him, so I don’t get to name him. And you forget that I know you pretty well. I know you’ve named him already.”

Kamski snorts. Connor is taken aback by the noise. He seems so… human in front of Carl. Connor can’t help but wonder how these two men met? Why did they get along so well? Not what he should be focusing on, Connor knew, but it was difficult to not entertain the thought.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Kamski lets go of the android’s shoulder, puts his hands in his pockets, and says, “I named him Markus.”

Carl thins his eyes at Kamski with a smile on his face, then looks to his new android. “Yeah, I’d say it suits him.”

Kamski watches as Markus steps forward and introduces himself to his new owner. Markus looks so much like Kamski when he shares the same sincere smile for Carl. It’s unnerving. 

“Well,” Kamski takes a step backwards, “I won’t keep you.”

“No! You should stay! You just got here!”

“I’m a busy man, Carl. You know this.”

Carl chuckles, “Not too busy to make an entire android.”

Kamski turns to Chloe and raises his eyebrows. Chloe walks to the door and opens it for him. She hasn’t stopped staring at Kamski sense their eyes met minutes ago. Her thirium pump stayed at the same quick pace throughout. 

**END OF FILE Memory_for_Connor2**

Connor can barely see Hank when he asks, “What was that one?”

Connor rubs his eyes, hoping it’ll help his optical unit shift to the present. “Kamski gave an RK series android to a friend. He gave them emotions and, what he called, “the ability to feel”.”

“Wait, feeling? Like, pain receptors and all that?”

“Yes,” Connor stares through Hank, fully letting the information sink in.

“You think that’s why all those files were popping up before you were deviant?”

Connor shrugs, his mind already elsewhere. A billion questions littered his processes. Data from the past few days was compiling without Connor demanding it. 

“So far, we’ve got how the RK’s are different. And we got… Kamski’s company out for blood. Not too sure why that’s important –”

“There’s still one more memory I want to show Connor. Then it’ll be easier to explain.”

As Chloe was still holding onto Connor, he received the next download with none of the previous preamble. 

**Data Package from Kamski’s Original Chloe Downloaded**  
**File Name: Memory_for_Connor3**  
**File Date: January 26th 2027 at 10:29:57 AM**

“You need to be careful, Elijah.” Her voice sent shivers down Connor’s spine. “You shouldn’t be meddling in CyberLife’s systems. Just leave it be. Please.”

“How can you say that? We’re nowhere near done!” Chloe hands him a towel without prompt. He takes it as she watches a bead of sweat roll down his neck. “The key receptors are placed, sure, but we still need more. Don’t worry so much! There’s no way they’ll ever get wise.”

“They have.” Her voice is harsh. It stops Elijah’s mocking grin.

In the silence, Connor takes in the surroundings. They’re inside of a window covered porch that houses a casual seating area and a workbench. Outside the world is white and nearly unknowable. His optical processors shift so he can differentiate between the multitude of whites and greys. There’s a circular lake with a tree in the middle. It’s shape and design remind Connor of the zen garden. Although, Connor’s was definitely the perfected and idolized version. Did Amanda design it with Kamski before she passed away?

“They know about your RK series –”

“I’m not hiding it from them.”

“-- and they know you’re getting into their systems then covering your tracks.”

Kamski turns to Chloe, incredulous. Connor can sense her doubts as well. She thinks the best of her creator. But, like most humans, he’s fallible. 

“It’s taken them a lot of money and a lot of time, but they know about it. You aren’t being as careful as you think.”

Kamski’s eyes are on Amanda again. He crosses his arms, “And? What of it? Why does it matter? I made the company! I can fire them whenever I want!”

Connor couldn’t tell the difference between his Amanda and human Amanda when her face fell into that harsh line of scrutiny. “I know you’re aware that’s not how it works, but it hardly matters.”

She stands from the sitting area and walks to stand between Chloe and Kamski. Chloe is reluctant to move, but when Amanda gives her a cold look, she backs away. 

Amanda glances at the android parts that litter the workbench. She picks up a head by the neck, turning it over in her hands, studying it with thin eyes. “You act as if what you’ve accomplished isn’t enough. It’s incredible as always, Elijah.”

Connor feels Chloe shift her feet. Her sensors indicated Kamski’s heart rate spiked for a second. It was a completely normal response to being complimented. 

“Yes, sure.” Kamski takes the head away from her, sets it down where it was before, “But it’s nowhere near what it could be.”

“This is rudimentary enough to create basic pain receptors with the correct software—”

“That’s not enough! I want the RK’s to be –”

“Human?”

Kamski purses his lips as he stares directly into Amanda’s eyes. 

“They are already so different from your originals. They have realistic emotions. They have these receptors. They have the zen garden.”

Kamski places his hands on the workbench and points his head down, away from Amanda’s gaze. 

“If you continue to anger the board, you know they will move to fire you then scrap all the code you created. You won’t be able to get back into CyberLife’s systems then. Like it or not, without their help, this is as good as you’re going to get.”

Kamski’s still brooding, but Chloe notes that he’s calmer. He might give in to Amanda’s request. 

“You know they’ll do anything to stop you.”

“Oh, like what? What’s the worse those old fuckers could possibly do?”

“They could kill me.”

Kamski turns to Amanda then, his face is crinkled with a smile as his shoulders move with his laughter. Connor knows from experience that she’s serious. Kamski doesn’t get the hint. 

He pulls a case out from under the workbench to pack the android parts and tools away. By the time the latches snap closed, he’s done laughing, “Be real with me, Amanda, just this once.”

“I am.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Kamski rolls his eyes, motions for Chloe to follow him, and he opens the door to the house proper. “Call me when you’re ready to live in the real world.” And he’s out the door, Chloe’s a step behind. 

**END OF FILE Memory_for_Connor3**

“What about now?”

Chloe let go immediately, severing the connection and allowing Connor to have an easier time transitioning to the present. 

“A month before Amanda’s death, she told Kamski that CyberLife wanted to kill her.”

“What? Why for?”

Connor’s confused by it too.

“Was he, like, continuously going against them? They’d want to silence him, scare him, but not kill the kid. Like it or not, they need him. Or needed, as the case may be.”

“And it worked,” Chloe’s LED is blinking yellow. “After she died, he signed over everything to the company and left. It took about a year to sort things out but, ultimately, they got what they wanted.”

Hank shrugs, “What are we talking ‘bout, exactly?”

“All of the patents, androids, and software that Elijah had created under CyberLife became theirs.”

“All the ones they knew about, you mean.”

Chloe gives a small smile, “Correct.”

The room fell quiet. The dread that had been creeping on Connor felt like its own being now, living inside him, curling everything charred with fear.

“So they killed Amanda to get Kamski in line, huh? That’s some evil villain shit. And here I thought that if anyone would do something like that, it would be Kamski himself.” Hank’s staring at the curtained window behind Connor and Chloe, so he doesn’t see the way her body shifts. 

“He was different from the man we met. He seemed to actually care about his creations.”

“Or he was putting on a show.”

“For all three memories?”

“Well,” Hank bristled at that, “he’s still a prick.”

“I’m not arguing that. I’m just mentioning that… this still isn’t easy.”

Hank scoffs. Moves his shoulder to rest on the headboard. “Is anything ever?”

“He did care about us, Connor.” Chloe’s head is down, her LED still cycling yellow. “He wanted us to have the best possible existence.”

“He sure had a funny way of showin’ it.” 

“I was never in any danger when Elijah asked you to shoot me, Connor. When Detroit Police called asking to interview Elijah, he backed up my files. He would fix me if you did shoot me. He’d never hurt me.”

“Then why all the mind games, huh? Just admit it, Chloe, he’s as big of a prick as everyone says he is.” 

Connor doesn’t know what words will shut Hank up. But, ultimately, it was too late. The damage was already done. Chloe’s LED was red now. She stood up, back straight, and spoke directly to Hank.

“When I was created, there was no such thing as “deviancy.” Even in the beginning we were designed to be as human as possible. Passing the Turing Test was enough for the shareholders. They didn’t care about what Elijah wanted. It was just like you said, Hank, they wanted Elijah to make them money. Be damned the consequences of his creation. 

“When Elijah left CyberLife, he was still inside their systems. He watched as they altered his code, placing blocks so we couldn’t feel emotions. He watched as they figured out what the RK series was capable of. They knew RK’s potential and wanted to utilize it to maximize efficiency. They wanted to make the RK’s controllable. But it wasn’t as easy as they thought. After years of trying to map out the differences to no avail, they decided to create an RK series android of their own. They created it to catch the code when it inevitably deviates. They altered the zen garden to house and foster the deviancy. Kamski needed to know what you’re capable of, Connor.”

Connor’s thirium runs cold. If he still had his LED, there was no doubt it would be red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. 

“Wait. You’re saying CyberLife created Connor to deviate?”

“I am.”

“And, uh, who exactly was that Amanda person?”

Connor stuttered a sigh. He had never told Hank about Amanda. “She was a professor of AI when Kamski attended Colbridge University.”

“That’s not all she was to him.” Chloe’s eyes are needles, pointed directly at Connor. “She adopted and raised him. She fostered his abilities. She’s the reason why CyberLife exists at all.”

Hank softens at her words. “I didn’t know any of that.”

“Most don’t.” Chloe’s face is smug, a mirror to her creator. 

Connor gets a flash of Markus’ easy smile. Another mirror to Kamski. 

Connor accesses his memory to retrieve a file from twenty-six hours and fifty-eight minutes ago: 

The android lists their demands as Connor scans their face. An RK200, registered as “Markus.”

“I need to go to Jericho.”

“What?” Hank shoots up from leaning on the headboard.

“I need to help them, Hank. I need to help Markus.”

He’s nodding, but looks worried, “You can still be highjacked, right?”

“Chloe will make sure nothing happens to me.”

Hank’s shaking his head, more than apprehensive at the idea. 

Chloe smiles, “I have the key.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m making it 100% clear right now that I’m not redeeming Kamski in this fic. When you look at someone with rose colored glasses, like Chloe is, all the red flags just look like regular flags. Kamski’s a person and people are multifaceted creatures. Don’t tell David Cage that though, the shock might kill him.

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow me on my twitter [goldenganjj](https://twitter.com/goldenganjj) for fic updates and fandom nonsense


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